


Bad Blood

by pan_dora



Series: Justifiable [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Blood Magic, Blood and Gore, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Folklore, Hindu Mythology - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Overprotective Behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Spell Failure, Steo, Stiles/Theo - Freeform, Supernatural Creatures, canon divergence - post season 5b, spell gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-01-16 05:05:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12336060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pan_dora/pseuds/pan_dora
Summary: Stiles clapped his hands together listlessly. “Oh, boy. This is gonna be good.” He closed his eyes, sighing in silence.“What’s good about that?” Jackson scrutinised him critically, oblivious the obvious sarcasm.Isaac, on the other hand, understood very well how Stiles meant what he had said. There was a very conflicted expression crossing his features – and it didn’t get better as someone seemed to express exactly what he was thinking.Theo scoffed. “So, they were getting the blowjobs of their lives, I suppose.”





	1. Chapter 1

Lydia listened intently after opening the door. The click of the lock had been so loud that it must have alerted the supernatural part of their housemoving team. It was generally hard to be secretive about anything when even one person had supernatural hearing. Stiles and Lydia had to deal with three – currently two, since Theo's truck wasn’t in the driveway and the guy wouldn’t leave anybody else touch his car – and that made matters insanely worse. But since nobody reacted, Lydia grabbed Stiles' hand and the two of them rushed upstairs to Lydia’s room. Additionally to the werewolves currently working _somewhere_ , the very mansion they were now living in put a spoke in their wheel. The second they hit the fourth step on the staircase, the wood creaked underneath their feet. They winced in unison but the staircase in an old Spanish villa – even though newly renovated – didn’t have only one creaking step.

“ _Fuck my life_ ,” Stiles muttered.

Lydia shushed him. The two of them rushed straight down the hallway on which end could be found four of the eight bedrooms; a guest room, Stiles’ room, Kira’s room and Lydia’s room. Theo and Isaac had their rooms on the other side of the hallway. The other two rooms were currently unoccupied and used as guest rooms until Liam and Mason were going to move in after graduation.

“This is not how it works!” Jackson insisted forcing Lydia and Stiles to come to an abrupt halt. How fast did they finish the office? Or library or whatever they wanted to call the room they would keep the Bestiary and everything else in. It would definitively be the room in which the police – the part which wasn’t aware of the supernatural world, at least – should never set foot in. Maybe they should consider locking it. Then again, they’d planned on putting their normal books there as well.

A low thump could be heard from inside the room. “It didn’t work your way either,” Danny shot back unaffected by his best friend’s antics.

“How did you even lose the instructions?” Isaac complained.

Lydia rolled her eyes. Of all the people being involved in this move, Isaac, Stiles, Jordan and John were the people who weren’t actually incapable of assembling furniture. Two out of the four had to leave early for work and Stiles and Lydia had left two hours ago to pack up the rest as well as do some other, well, _things_.

“I didn’t lose the instruction,” Jackson said, affronted, “It wasn’t in the package.”

“I _read_ it!” Isaac shot back.

“ _Guys,_ ” Danny interrupted, the sigh of the defeated accompanying his voice, “Maybe it’s still in Theo's truck.” Plausible. The bit of furniture they possessed had been driven by either Theo or Jordan. But their packing had actually had some organisation behind it, so they had put Lydia and Kira’s belongings into Theo’s truck while the few things from Theo and Stiles’ room as well as the even lesser things from their living room were transported by Jordan. A couple of small boxes had been propped up in Lydia and his car's boot and the backseat. Most of those had been filled with clothes, shoes and books.

“That means we have to wait till Guinea is back,” Isaac groaned pushing something heavy – it sounded like he did at least. “Or ask Stiles when he's back.”

Lydia let out a breath. “The runes seem to be working,” she whispered.

Two days before the move, Stiles and Lydia had wandered around the house applying a couple of security runes – a lot were supposed to protect the house from being found or entered by people who weren’t supposed to be here. The others had to do with privacy. Stiles had – hidden underneath the wallpaper – applied some runes that would basically stop supernatural ears and noses from getting too much information. It would be better for all of them. After all, they were five people and although the house was big, the bedrooms were all close together. No matter how thick a wall might be, a werewolf would hear and smell things they weren’t exactly supposed to hear or smell. So, as long as the door remained closed, the rune was active and prevented supernatural nosiness.

“At least one thing’s working,” Stiles muttered gesturing towards the door, “I really would like some clothes, though.”

Lydia frowned at her own bedroom door. “What are you going to tell them?”

“Not the _truth_ , obviously,” Stiles replied rubbing the back of his neck feeling mildly stressed about the whole situation, “Jackson’s never going to let me live that down and Theo will kill me.”

Lydia nodded her head slowly at that. “I don’t think he’ll kill you,” she said pushing a strand of hair over her shoulder, “But he might get affronted.” Affronted was a really nice term for being tilted into oblivion. Because that’s what he would be as soon as he figured out what Stiles and Lydia were doing during their _research_. But it had been far easier to convince Lydia to help him than it would have been to persuade Theo – that guy was against all and everything that might hint at the smallest hint of danger.

Stiles massaged his temple. “We’ll just say I pissed of a witch because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.”

“While that is plausible,” Lydia countered in a very low voice, “That might make him go even more ballistic.”

At least it wouldn’t make him mad at Stiles for being a reckless idiot. He had had this particular conversation with Lydia already and although he had been able to convince her in the end, she still pursed her lips in a distinctively disapproving manner every time they dove into practice. Plus, the whole thing would eventually lead back to Brett, who had – probably unintentionally – planted the idea in Stiles’ head in the first place and then to Satomi, who Stiles had gone for to get a little more information. His plan was to tell the pack about it _after_ he had gotten better at the whole thing.

“Well, what do you want me to tell them? That I-“

The door behind him flung open suddenly and Stiles realized that the two of them, instead of walking into Stiles’ room to continue the discussion somewhere private like reasonable people, were still standing in the middle of the hallway. Lydia seemed no less surprised about their combined ignorance of the fact that Danny, Isaac and Jackson could leave her bedroom any given second. To be frank, Stiles wasn’t quite sure what the protocol was in his current situation – tug tail and run, face them or don’t move and hope for the best?

“Uhm,” Isaac said stopping in the doorway only inches away from Stiles, who still had his back turned towards them. “Please tell me, that-“ A poignant pause followed in which Isaac probably pointed at him –  “isn’t Stiles,” he ordered then obviously addressing Lydia, who pursed her lips in contemplation.

“She’s wearing his hoodie,” Danny remarked.

“That doesn’t necessary mean anything,” Isaac replied sounding tragically hopeful.

“How about Stiles’ scent clinging to her then?” Jackson argued, “The guy'd been crushing on Lydia a stupidly long time, I doubt he’s the cheating type.”

There was a short silence in which Lydia and Stiles simply looked at each other. Then Isaac groaned. “Who did you tee off now?”

It probably said a lot that Isaac immediately jumped to the conclusion Stiles had pissed somebody off enough that they considered turning him into a girl was a proper punishment instead of doing this to himself. It’s not _wrong_. People knew he tended to mouth off constantly. So, his lie would be considerably believable. Lydia didn’t appear to be too happy about spinning a story to protect his secret but she wouldn’t be the one who spilled the beans either.

“It’ll wear off soon enough.” He decided to dodge the question all together. Safest bet. Lydia hadn’t agreed to his lie and could potentially ruin everything because she couldn’t conceal her heartbeat. Not that that’s a bad thing. Stiles wasn’t exactly proud to be a lying scumbag and get away with it. Lydia didn’t seem to appreciate it either, at least if the way she drew in her eyebrows was any indication about her current thought process. “And dealt with,” Stiles added belatedly. Both was a lie, of course. Stiles had no fucking clue if this little accident might be permanent until he found the proper solution or if it did, in fact, wear off after a while.

“I swear-“ Isaac muttered.

Stiles turned around with what he thought could be counted as an innocent grin. Jackson, as a response, choked on the soda he was drinking. Lydia startled at that. Danny rolled his eyes at his best friend’s overdramatic behaviour while Isaac was casually stepping away in case of the drink coming back the way it had entered.

“You’re a girl,” Jackson stated in utter astonishment.

Stiles squinted. “I thought we established that.”

“Yeah, no, I mean-“ Jackson leaned forward inspecting Stiles’ face like someone who would look at a fruit in a grocery store. “You’re _you_ but as a girl.”

Stiles blinked.

Danny scrutinised his best friend. “What did you expect he’d look like?” He asked then shaking his head. “Meryl Streep?”

“A sea of opportunities and you came up with an old, blonde chic?” Isaac asked incredulously.

Danny shrugged. “She was the first actress that came to mind.”

“Well, I didn’t expect him to look like his hot sister- Jackson interrupted the two, then stopped looking almost horrified. “ _Older_ sister is what I meant to say.” But the damage was already done and while Stiles took a measured step away from Jackson, Lydia smirked deviously. Danny and Isaac were choking on their laughter.

 

An hour later, neither Danny, nor Isaac, nor Lydia had let Jackson forget his slip-up. See, that's the reason Stiles wasn’t exactly keen about admitting his own little mistake. In fact, his situation would be tremendously worse because Jackson wasn’t a victim then but the one who would terrorize him. Not even Stiles’ claim on having the power to kick him out of Beacon Hills – he’s the alpha and neither Jackson nor he felt comfortable enough around each other to be pack – would stop the pretentious prick to have a go at him. Yes, he had changed, and no, Stiles was not going to be the one to stop Lydia and him from rekindling their relationship. But, dear Lord, he had no intention of holding back his glee about Jackson being punished for speaking before thinking. It was like tasting ones very own medicine.

Kira, who had unpacked the boxes for the kitchen and had learned about the newest incident regarding their alpha because Isaac had run down the stairs yelling at the top of his lungs like a little kid, appeared to be highly amused by the constant bickering as well as Stiles’ situation but was actually too polite to comment on either. In fact, she offered Stiles one of her tops after both Lydia and he had come to the realisation that he did not fit properly in her clothes. He was fucking _scrawny_. He couldn’t remember to have been as skinny as a goddamn rake being his normal self. So, this whole thing was either an intergalactic joke or Theo needed to have a closer look on his diet.

Speaking of Theo; Stiles wasn’t quite sure he had registered fully _what_ happened. As he had entered their new residence with the lunch he had been sent off to get, he had a scrutinised the girl in yoga pants and tank top, frowned and left to continue the TV stand without any comment at all. It had been a more enjoyable reaction than being yelled at.

Lydia nodded in the chimera's direction as Stiles and she unpacked the box with Stiles' collection of Blue-rays and video games only ten minutes later. They’d have to prop them up beside the TV for now, since they hadn’t bought a shelve for the living room yet.

Stiles shrugged.

Lydia nodded towards Theo again, raising her brows.

 _Fine_.

Sighing, he grabbed one of the brown bags sitting on the dining table – nobody really stopped working since the werewolves didn’t need a break and all of them wanted to finish the moving as quickly as possible – and crossed the room. “Hungry?”

“No.”

“Need any help?”

“No.”

With yet another sigh Stiles dropped the sandwich bag on the couch behind Theo. Glancing over his shoulder he noticed how Lydia lead Kira away under false pretences, although she probably knew exactly why they were leaving the living-kitchen area. Stiles pushed his fringe out of the way. “Are you pissed?” He asked sitting down cross-legged beside him.

“What gave you that impression?” Theo didn’t look up once from his work.

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. This reaction was to be expected. He still kind of hoped that Theo might be a little less aggravated by the whole situation. It’s not like it was Stiles' fault. Okay, no. It absolutely was Stiles' fault but he didn’t exactly plan on it to happen. It’s not like he sat there thinking ‘Hey, today I wanna be a girl’. This had totally been an accident. “Your general expression?” Stiles decided to go for the nice approach. “How you’re getting wrinkles from frowning the whole time? It really doesn’t suit your pretty face.”

Theo twisted the screw almost a little too harshly, then dropped the tool onto the carpet next to him. “If I hadn’t known before that it was your fault, I would have been a hundred percent sure now.” He leaned over to the instruction, frown deepening as he read the next step. Stiles used that moment to snatch the bag with screws and hide them between his legs. “So, what did you do?” Theo glanced at him with a raised brow before looking around for whatever he needed.

Stiles grabbed the screwdriver, too, but more to have something in his hands than any other reason. “I’m practising.”

Theo got into a crouch looking irritated as he obviously couldn’t find what he needed. “What exactly are you practising?” He dropped down frowning again.

Stiles clicked his tongue. “Things.”

With a sigh, Theo ended his search and focused his attention solely on Stiles. “You’re testing my patience here, babe.”

“We talked about nicknames, didn’t we?”

Theo narrowed his eyes. “ _Stiles._ ”

“So, there is the possibility to, like, strengthen that bit of magic I own, you know?” He tapped the handle of the tool against his knee, “My spark is kind of like a, uh, muscle. The more I train it, the more energy it can hold without my void being active.”

Theo looked utterly unimpressed, probably already knowing that from studying the Dread Doctors’ research papers. “The longer you talk, the more I think that whatever you did is going to really piss me off.”

“I decided,” Stiles continued his ramblings, “to use a quick and very effective method, so –“

“Stiles, what are you practising with?”

“This sounds worse than it actually is.”

“ _Stiles!_ ”

“Blood magic.”

Theo stared at him. It was a little funny, as he opened and closed his mouth utterly bemused – then the irritation set in. “You’re kidding.”

“Not really.”

For the flicker of a second, Theo actually looked like he wanted to throttle him. “I can’t believe-“ He said then running his fingers through his hair, “Do you know- _Stiles_.” Exasperated, he shook his head.

Stiles offered him a tentative smile.

Theo snatched the screwdriver out of his hands and pointed it at him. “I can’t fucking believe you. Screwing around with that kind of magic is dangerous.”

“I’m actually quite good at it,” Stiles disagreed opting for another innocent smile. “Nothing bad happened yet.”

“Aside from you turning yourself into a girl.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate, not bad.” Stiles scrunched up his nose for a second, desperately searching for an argument to undermine his point. “Listen, I still have all my limps and no lasting damage occurred.”

“Yet.” Theo clenched his teeth. “Being possessed by Tara wasn’t enough?” He asked then, his irritation still lingering although he tried his hardest to keep it out of his voice. “You really have to screw around with that?”

Stiles grabbed Theo’s hand, watching as feminine fingers intertwined with those of his boyfriend. He couldn’t help but think how weird it was seeing Theo holding hands with a girl – even if said girl was himself. “I’ll be careful from now on,” Stiles promised forcing himself to look away from their hands. It shouldn’t bother him. But it did – and for the first time he realised that he had no idea in which direction Theo's attraction would usually go. Was he only attracted to men? Was he bisexual, like Stiles, or pansexual, like Isaac? He sure as hell wasn’t straight; Theo had gotten it into his head to make up for all the time they had been cockblocked by their pack. It had been a few very intense encounters – and Stiles was definitely happy about the runes working because sex in the woods wasn’t as amazing as people had made it out to be.

“If something were to happen to you-“ Theo said slowly.

Stiles chuckled quietly. “You know me, bad weeds grow tall.”

Theo looked at him, just looked for a few seconds; his face was carefully blank. Then there was a twitch in his jaw, barely noticeable if one didn’t know what to pay attention to. The change in his expression was miniscule – but said a lot more than any vocal outbreak could. “I won’t condone that,” he said, very decisively, and got to his feet in one swift movement.

Stiles followed suit, a bit more clumsily than usually since he wasn’t quite used to his new body, and grabbed Theo's wrist. “So, your argument is _it’s dangerous_?” He asked then incredulously. “Everything we do is dangerous.”

Theo turned around and freed himself. They had two weeks of nice couple time. They had managed to go on dates, had lots of sex. It was _great_. But the thing with them was, when they fought, they did so decidedly viciously, fiercely and relentlessly. Neither of them was the person that would back down first. It didn’t exactly belong to their characters to shut up or be the bigger person, although it was very obvious that they should have done exactly that instead of making it worse.

There was a storm coming.

And Stiles doubted he’s ready for it this time.

“Yes,” Theo replied eventually. “That’s my argument.”

“But that doesn’t make any _sense_.”

“It does.” There was a distinct pause in which Stiles was given the chance to catch up but didn’t. Theo narrowed his eyes. “The difference is how you approach the danger.” Another silence, this time a lot more loaded with tension than the one before. It was only a matter of seconds before Theo would finally explode – whether Stiles said anything or not – so he decided, as not to fuel the fire, to stay quiet. Even if they went hard on each other, they usually let the other person make their point before coming up with the inevitable comeback. “Because obviously, you don’t see it when it’s dancing on your nose. But as long as it is you who puts himself in danger, that’s perfectly fine, I guess.”

“Says the guy who jumped between a packmate and certain death more than once,” Stiles shot back.

Theo rolled his eyes. “That was about protection. What you’re doing is completely insane. It’s _reckless_.”

“I’m trying to protect the pack.”

“No, _you’re_ trying to get stronger as fast as possible,” Theo snapped heatedly, and Stiles’ response was stolen straight from his lips, “instead of being reasonable.“

Stiles curled his lips into a snarl. “You’re one to talk.” It wasn’t exactly fair to throw Theo’s past mistakes back in his face – or the desire for power he had had upon his return to Beacon Hills for that matter. During that time, there had been nothing more important for him than getting stronger, getting more and more power; whatever the consequences may be.

“Yes,” Theo hissed turning around again placing both hands on the kitchen island, fingers wrapping around the edges, his knuckles turning white. For a second, Stiles worried he’d break off a piece of marble. “Listen to the person who'd suffered the ramifications of wanting too much power in too little time.”

“You can’t compare-“

“Yes, I _can_ ,” Theo interrupted with so much heat behind his words that Stiles closed his mouth, teeth clacking. It was obvious that Theo reached a level of anger where he neither cared about nor wanted to hear Stiles’ arguments. “I was obsessed with power but even I had patience. What you do is flirting with a serial killer to get a good fuck.”

“Oh,” Stiles replied rolling his eyes himself, “that’s a little overdramatic, don’t you think?”

“What do you think a Darach does?” Theo inquired not turning to face Stiles but continuing to glare at the dark grey marble in front of him – almost as if it helped cooling his temper. “Druids and emissaries usually stay clear of it unless there is _no other way_. You offer too much-“ Theo shook his head finally looking at Stiles again. “It’s considered dark magic for a reason.”

“I know it’s dangerous.”

“Do you?” Theo shot back sharply. “Because it seems too me like you haven’t put much thought into it.”

“I’m just trying to get stronger so I  won’t be possessed again.”

Theo closed his eyes, almost like he was praying for patience. “There are safer ways to strengthen your spark.”

“But it’s-“

“Fast, I get it.” Theo clenched his teeth, jaw sharp. “Fuck the consequences, right? I mean, who cares? You’re only putting your life on the line.”

“I don’t want to use it,” Stiles defended himself – and that was true. He never intended blood magic to be his go to weapon later on. He was more interested in other things, less dangerous things. It’s not like he hadn’t heard about the harm that could be done to those playing around with this kind of magic; severe blood loss or sepsis were only two things on a long list of dangers.

“Then why even bother learning it?” Theo pushed himself away from the kitchen island, still more aggravated than exasperated. But before he let Stiles answer, he raised both his hands. “What spell did go wrong?” He asked instead turning around to look at him again, arms crossed and jawline sharp.

Stiles crossed his arms, too. “A simple protection spell,” he answered then and Theo’s eyebrows climbed at first before he drew them so close together that they almost formed one line. “So that those who seek to use me cannot find me.”

“We have a rune for that-“

“I know-“

“But that’s a perfect example for my argumentation,” Theo continued without even listening to what Stiles wanted to say, “Blood magic is fickle. The spell has a purpose but the outcome is not always what you would expect – or reversible. Did you find something to turn you back?”

Stiles clenched his teeth. “We haven’t looked yet.”

“ _Good_ ,” Theo snarled, this time advancing on Stiles, who backed away until he hit the wall behind him. He never noticed how small he really was until Theo, who was usually five centimetres smaller, basically towered over him. Noticing to be smaller than Lydia was one thing – after all, he could blame their height difference on her high heels – but this, right now, put his current size into a completely new perspective. “What if there is none?” Theo continued his inquisition, eyes blazing yellow with anger. “What if there is only a small period of time in which you can reverse the spell?” His hands slammed against the wall and he was caging Stiles in, who, for the first in a long time, felt threatened by Theo again. “But I guess you didn’t think that far, did you? Because that’s not how you operate when the plan involves _you_. You are overthinking everything when the outcome could affect others but _you_ ,” Theo hissed having bent down so low that his yellow irises were surrounded by blurry features, “Fuck yourself, right?” He slammed the heel of his hand so hard against the wall, it cracked. “Let’s antagonise the monster of the week. Let’s throw ourselves into the pool with kanima venom paralysing us. Let’s use-“

“Hey!” Theo was suddenly yanked away from Stiles. He lost his footing and landed on his ass ungracefully but it took only a second for him to come back to his feet, growling and baring sharp canines with an animalistic flick of his tongue.

His growl was reciprocated by an unfamiliar snarl.

Stiles whipped his head around, then just as he finally realised how this scene had to have looked like to an outsider, he rushed forward. “Brett!” His voice was reasonably loud but he needed to physically push back the werewolf in order to get his attention. “Stop it.”

Brett’s yellow eyes flick down then back to Theo again before they rested on the face looking up at him. His features morphed back into his human self after a moment of contemplation. “ _Stiles_?” He asked astonished ignoring multiple people rushing down the stairs behind him.

“Yes,” Stiles replied stepping away now that he was sure that the werewolf did not intend to go for Theo’s throat again.

“What the hell is going on?” Isaac demanded coming to a stumbling halt beside Brett.

“Were you two fighting?” Kira asked her voice mildly higher than usual.

As Brett chucked off his backpack displaying his name and number on the back of his green jersey, Jackson, upon seeing it, made a sound of disgust. Danny shot him a warning glance.

“I thought he wanted to rip out her throat,” Brett explained gesturing towards Stiles, then stopped and shook his head. “His throat,” he corrected himself with a slight frown.

“What were _you_ fighting about?” Isaac inquired with a raised brow, slowly turning away from Brett, now watching Stiles and Theo warily.

Stiles opened his mouth then, closed it and turned round to look at Theo, who had his arms crossed in front of him, still seething, but not answering the question. “Nothing important,” Stiles replied slowly turning back to look at Brett, who had obviously heard at last the few bits Theo had thrown in his face. Although he didn’t seem to like it, Brett decided not to comment on what he had interrupted. “It’s private, Isaac,” Stiles shot his beta down as he was opening his mouth again.

Unsatisfied that his question remained without answer, Isaac pulled a face.

“What’s that guy doing here?” Jackson asked after a few seconds of silence and pointed at Brett.

Theo crossed the room, deliberately bumping into Stiles as he did. Lydia raised a brow. “How did he find us is the more pressing question,” he drawled hopping onto the kitchen island. “Since our alpha here allegedly protected it from outsiders.” They locked eyes with each other both fuming with anger at the things unspoken as well as said out loud. “But, I guess, Brett belongs to the inner circle now.”

“Don’t push it,” Stiles warned.

“What’s with you two?” Danny raised a brow unusually curious – he never seemed like someone interested in other people’s lives. Then again, Stiles didn’t know Danny very well.

And Danny had never seen them fight.

Brett let out a breath. “Listen, she asked if I could come help with the moving.” Rummaging through his backpack, he quickly pointed at Lydia waving a hand at Theo, who narrowed his eyes at her. “And Satomi wanted me to ask you if you could take a look at this.” He conjured forth a light brown file and offered it to Stiles. “An old friend asked us for help.”

Kira’s expression slightly drooped at the fact that they seemed to have a new case on their hands.

“So, the guy thinks it’s supernatural?” Isaac asked.

Brett gave a heavy sigh. “Just look at it.”

Stiles snatched the file from his fingers and stalked over to the dining table. Everyone followed him – well, almost everyone. Because Theo didn’t move an inch and instead helped himself to one of the remaining sandwiches resting on the island beside him. Ignoring his boyfriend’s childish behaviour, Stiles opened the file and spread the four papers on the table, carefully keeping the pictures attached to it.

Lydia had inched so close to his side that not even a leaf would find a place between them while reading the information.

Kira, who was trying to read upside down, squinted. “So, the victims were grandson and grandfather?”

“Read the file,” Brett simply replied propping his head on the palm of his hand.

That didn’t exactly sound too good. But Stiles knew well enough not to give a verdict on anything at first glance – and sure enough, he found the obvious fly in the ointment after reading only a couple of lines. “Oh, hell no,” Stiles muttered running a hand over his face. “I’m way too sober for this.” He shoved the papers away.

“Wait,” Danny muttered yanking one of the information sheets around to inspect it more closely, “they are _the same person_?”

“Yupp,” Brett agreed.

“How?” Kira asked astonished.

Jackson looked almost appalled. “He was twenty-three and died looking like _this_?”

“It happened to all four of them.” Brett scooted closer to the table snatching the papers and showing the ages to Stiles. “See?” He pointed at the pictures of the four young men – ages ranging from seventeen to twenty-four – which all looked the same: white hair, wrinkly face, sunken cheeks, pale skin. “And you wanna know what’s even more exciting?”

“They were found naked and with salvia on their dicks.” Stiles clapped his hands together listlessly. “Oh, boy. This is gonna be _good_.” He closed his eyes, sighing in silence.

“What’s good about that?” Jackson scrutinised him critically, oblivious the obvious sarcasm.

Isaac, on the other hand, understood very well how Stiles meant what he had said. There was a very conflicted expression crossing his features – and it didn’t get better as someone seemed to express exactly what he was thinking.

Theo scoffed. “So, they were getting the blowjobs of their lives, I suppose.”

Silence fell over the people standing around the dining table. Everyone, Brett and Jackson included, watched Stiles for any reaction to these words before they exchanged quick glances. Nobody said anything but Isaac tried to hide his guilty expression rather unsuccessfully by running a hand over his face, as if that ought to help smoothing out his features to the necessary disapproving look.

Stiles cast a withering glance in Theo's direction, who wasn’t fazed at all by it, then put the papers back into the file. “Let me get shoes,” he said towards Brett, “then the two of us go to talk to Satomi. I’d like to have you with us on the case.”

Lydia and Kira followed him, exchanging an obvious look – neither seemed to be very happy about Stiles’ decision. The tension was palpable and it grew even more as Brett decided to glance sheepishly at the chimera. Of course, he wouldn’t do anything that might remotely disturb the relationship between Theo and Stiles but he obviously didn’t seem to mind being used to fuel the anger churning inside Theo. “I’ll wait by the car,” he called after Stiles, who simply gave him the thumbs up. 

As he reached the staircase, Stiles looked over his shoulder. Theo had gone rigid where he sat, and he watched Brett leave through the front door before his gaze swept up to meet Stiles’. There would be hell to pay but, although imbecile and perhaps unjust, he felt good about it.  Now, at the very least, Theo had a reason to be angry with him – although taking Brett along with them was perfectly sensible considering that he was on speaking terms with their client.

Theo flashed his eyes, a clear indicator of his current emotional state.

Stiles hurried up the stairs trying to ignore the sharp voice of his conscience – which sounded remarkably like Lydia – scolding him for his actions.


	2. Chapter 2

“Lydia,” Stiles interrupted her desperately, “Can you maybe wait with the Jiminy Cricket impression until after we’re done here?”

Obviously affronted, she pursed her lips. But it would take a lot more than that to keep her from giving him a piece of her mind. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Brett knows the client,” Stiles defended himself and gestured to where said werewolf was talking to a well-rounded thirty something with a stunning smile a couple feet in front of them.

Lydia shook her head. “You know what I mean.”

They went down another flight of stairs, Brett and Mrs. Dawson talking about something or other – he didn’t really pay attention – and into a white corridor, in which the temperature dropped significantly. Stiles watched the werewolf for a moment, then shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. Satomi hadn’t exactly been hard to convince since she had sent Brett in the first place. But he had known it would piss Theo off and that, really, had been the point of the whole exercise. They hadn’t spoken since then. As Stiles had come home around one, he had already left for his therapy session with Morell and had gone straight into his room afterwards. During the discussion three hours ago, Theo had told them that he had no intention of getting his life sucked out through his dick and would skip this case. Then he had gone upstairs again. Danny had agreed to keep an eye on him, who was currently hacking into god-knows-what to gather information Jackson, Kira and Isaac might not get while talking to the victims’ families. Although knowing full well why Theo had decided against it, Stiles had accepted his decision – standing true to his words that he would not force anybody to join a case.

“Okay.” Mrs. Dawson stopped in front of a heavy door, turning around to focus her attention on Lydia and Stiles. She seemed mildly hesitant but glad to finally get to talk to someone who knew what was going on in the world. “What I’m about to show you might be-“

Lydia shook her head. “We’ve seen a fair amount of dead bodies.”

Mrs. Dawson seemed startled for a few seconds but she seemed to get to her senses relatively quickly. “Oh, yeah.” Her expression was almost sad for a moment. She sighed then and pushed the door open. “I forgot about your… history. Satomi filled me in yesterday. I’m really sorry for what you had to go through.”

Stiles hated moments like this with a passion. His terrible mood didn’t help even in the slightest. But he was not about to be a dick to that poor woman. He offered her a tiny smile. “It’s fine,” he replied in an over the top sweet voice. Even Brett cast him a confused glance at that.

Mrs. Dawson squinted at him for a second, taking in his appearance – from his slightly too big converse, he had gotten from Kira, the yoga pants from Lydia and his own hoodie. He either looked like the most comfortable person in the world or it was obvious that something was off about his appearance. “Is that-?”

“Yeah,” Brett interrupted putting a hand on Stiles’ head, patting him with an exceedingly amused grin on his face, “that’s the dumbass who fucked up a spell.”

“I see,” she replied raising her eyebrows until they disappeared underneath her fringe. Stiles expected another flood of words directing at him, people usually were curious and up in meeting Lydia, she had practically interrogated her about what it meant to be a banshee. Either she wasn’t too interested in magic _or_ she very well noticed Stiles' current mood, either way, Mrs. Dawson sighed and looked back at Brett with a small shake of her head. “Your poor choice of words hasn’t really improved over the time we haven’t seen each other.”

Brett almost appeared to be pouting. Lydia, if Stiles read her smile correctly, seemed to very pleased with the werewolf being told off. It wasn’t untrue. Brett had no filter, which was due to the fact that he really did not give a fuck about anything. Maybe it was a side-effect of being Beacon County’s golden boy.  

With a sigh, Stiles rolled the sleeves of his hoodie up and accepted the disposable gloves the medical examiner offered him. “So, aside from the obvious disturbance in age,” he began pulling on the gloves, “is there anything else to see?” Morgues really weren’t his favourite place to be. Although considering how often he had been in one in the last two years, one would expect he had gotten used to it by now. He hadn’t. Not even a little bit – and he doubted he ever would. It was a mystery to him how people could work here; all this pain and violence and smell of chemicals, it made him  nauseous.

Mrs. Dawson, suddenly all business, walked over to what looked like a giant freezer. She pulled the heavy door open and checked labels and names for a few moments. Lydia frowned a little at the onslaught of organs but it was Brett who appeared to be outright disgusted by the sight in front of them. Well, it was always worse in reality than it was on pictures. “Ah.” Mrs. Dawson clicked her tongue, pulled out four boxes and put them on the table. “Here we go.” She looked round at all of them, obviously catching Brett and Stiles share a significantly apprehensive look because she kept her eyes on them as she continued to talk. “The sheriff wanted me to keep this information away from the public but the rumours are already spreading. Luckily, nobody knows about that.” True that, you could only dismiss so much as a freak medical occurrence. She opened the box labelled Mitchell Goldbach.

Stiles expected a lot. Especially crazy shit, as per usual by all these supernatural shenanigans going on. So, as he was faced with a little, slightly egg-shaped, brown ball the size of a walnut, he was mildly confused. He watched Lydia lean a little closer, while Brett, who kept his distance, actually sniffed the air like that would help him even in the slightest. It didn’t, as it seemed, because he scrunched up his nose in obvious disgust before shaking his head as he noticed Stiles looking at him. No surprise there. The room smelled like chemicals and cleanliness, probably to whitewash the smells that come with dead bodies.

“Is that-“ Lydia carefully picked the little walnut up for closer inspection- “is that a heart?” She showed it to Stiles, who kept his face straight with effort and squinted at the little ball in her palm. It did look like a heart – one you’d put in a doll, only that that would be made out of plastic. This thing definitively wasn’t.

“Yes,” Mrs. Dawson agreed dreadfully, “and here we have stomach, lungs and kidneys.” She opened the three other boxes, all labelled with the same name as Stiles now realized. It seemed like every organ had shrunken and shrivelled to a size you could find in tiny creepy ass dolls – if such dolls existed. These dolls did exist, didn’t they? This was one of these things Stiles never wanted an answer to. Despite himself, he reached for the stomach and carefully rolled it onto the palm of his hand. After exchanging a mildly disgusted look with Lydia, he put it back in the box. She followed suit.

“To get this straight,” Brett said after a few seconds of silence, “this happened because of a blowjob.” He didn’t touch any of the organs but kept his arms firmly crossed in front of his chest. Stiles couldn’t blame him. If his curiosity wasn’t as strong as it was, he’d stepped to the far end of the room.

“You tell me,” Mrs. Dawson muttered crossing her arms. “But I couldn’t find any other fluids aside from salvia and the victim's ejaculate.”

Stiles blinked down at the organs and his mouth opened before he actually realised what it was his brain connected. “Can I see the bodies?”

“Sure.” She beckoned him over and opened the body chamber farthest to the left. Stiles stepped closer to her, Lydia and Brett following little enthusiastically. But his mind was set now and prepared for what he was – most likely – about to see. Then again, nothing really prepared you for a dead body; not even then when you think you’ve gotten used to them. So, as expected, his first response wasn’t exactly excitement but reluctance. He hesitated for a second before he leaned a little closer to the body. Sure enough, the skin looked dry like papyrus.

“Does he have eyes?”

Mrs. Dawson pinched her lips.

“Thought so.” Stiles sighed. “As you said, you couldn’t find any other fluid, you meant that _literally_.”

“Yes.”

“Fantastic.” Whatever had killed these people didn’t only suck out their life. They sucked out basically _everything_ which was exactly as disgusting as it sounded. But this particular information might at least help narrow this whole thing down a little. Hopefully not too many supernatural creatures existed who considered humans as their favourite beverage.

 

“At least they got their happy ending,” Isaac noted after Lydia had explained what they had learned from the medical examiner. They had been home for an hour or so as Jackson had dropped off Isaac and Kira and picked up Danny. Brett had immediately gone home to inform Satomi.

Theo hadn’t shown his face.

Stiles threw a hot pocket at Isaac. “I swear,” he uttered exasperated, “You and Brett, you’re like Tweedledum and Tweedledee.”

Isaac caught it easily, and started unwrapping it. “I take that as a compliment.” Of course, he would. The two get along like brothers who were separated by birth and had searched the other their whole life. If the two of them ever become best friends, Stiles might as well make their house as sass-free zone.

Kira chuckled quietly. Isaac grinned at her.

“The worst thing is that we have no clue what we’re really looking at,” Stiles said veering the conversation back to where it had come from. There had to be _something,_ anything really that gave them a clue about what they were dealing with. But nobody replied anything and instead busied themselves with their food. Lydia, who he had discussed the whole topic during their ride home with, pushed her salad around listlessly. Isaac and Kira seemed to need all their concentration while unwrapping their hot pockets.

Stiles groaned quietly and put his own food on the table before falling back against the couch. Even though he tried to ignore it, Theo’s absence was noticeable. He would usually be sitting here with them, his very presence relaxing Stiles. For whatever reason, Theo always made him think like they could succeed in everything. Perhaps because – against all odds – he had gotten better. But now he was upstairs in his room, which he hadn’t left – according to Danny at least – once during their absence. Stiles ran a hand over his face, pushing his guilty conscience as far away as possible to focus on the case at hand.

“There’s a lot of lore about ghosts and demons and whatever which can be linked to sex. I have no clue where to even start,” he confessed into the heavy silence.  

“How much time do we have before the next death?” Kira asked, her face scrunched up in worry.

Lydia shook her head. “Two died in the same night. The third victim three days later. The fourth a week after that.”

“Which means, someone else could be sucked dry right now,” Isaac groaned and dropped his late lunch in frustration.

“And,” Stiles added glaring at the wooden ceiling, “we have no links whatsoever.” Aside from them being all male, between the ages of 17 and 25 – but that didn’t exactly narrow anything down. Red Bluff had the estimated population of 14200 or something which meant there were a lot of people fitting that description. Danny hadn’t been able to find any sort of connection either, no friends, no hidden crimes – they hadn’t even attended the same schools or worked at the same place. They had driven different cars, hadn’t had the same circle of friends. They had been part of different sports teams. They all enjoyed blowjobs but that wasn’t exactly helpful in terms of narrowing down the long list of possible victims.

The only good thing about this case was, that they could drive home again with Red Bluff being only one and a half hour away from Beacon Hills; unless Brett was driving. Then the distance could miraculously be diminished to approximately an hour.

Isaac let out a long sigh. “That sucks.”

“Stiles!” His name echoed through the house and Theo appeared at the foot of the stairs. Slowly, Stiles sat up, confused and slightly startled at the changed approach. To be fair, he hadn’t expected Theo to make the first step – although his voice indicated that he continued to be tilted beyond measure and not ready to settle things. “Upstairs,” Theo added beckoning him over, “now.” And he vanished up the stairs again.

Lydia merely raised her eyebrows.

Stiles hopped to his feet. This wasn’t going to be a good talk unless he made the right approach on the whole disaster. Which he didn’t have a clue how, to be honest. Because he didn’t exactly want to back down. He still thought that getting his spark trained as quickly as possible was a great idea. He could use more runes – he was already able to use more than the meekly three after only a week of training. That’s a good argument. In fact, it’s a great argument. But Theo wouldn’t accept that. So, it didn’t matter if he brought that up. He steeled himself and pushed the door to Theo’s room open without knocking. He knew he was coming, being polite wouldn’t help his situation. Knowing Theo, the guy would find a way to use that kind of behaviour against him.

“So?” Stiles asked wearily. “What’s good?”

Theo narrowed his eyes. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, Stiles’ laptop opened beside him and three books on his pillow – all of them looking worse for wear. “Sit.” Stiles kicked off Kira’s shoes before he dropped onto the bed next to but with a deliberate distance between him and Theo. The chimera seemed to ignore that completely and instead, considerably haughtily, explained why exactly he summoned Stiles to his bedroom, “You’re in luck.” Additionally to the arrogance, Stiles noted an acute amount of distance in the way he spoke. Guilt clawed at his insides but he pushed it down and opted for a scowl. “The spell wears off.” Theo jabbed his thumb in the direction of the books; Stiles recognised the top one as the book Satomi had given to him. “Seems like you had, as per usual, more luck than judgement.”

“Are you going to insult me?” Stiles asked sharply. “Because if that’s the case, I’ll leave.”

“I talked to your dad,” Theo added crossly, completely ignoring the objection.

Stiles stared at him. “You did what?” Theo usually only approached the sheriff in Stiles’ company and even then, he mostly was in full shift. Probably so he couldn’t say anything stupid.

“You heard me,” Theo merely stated.

“What, are you looking for Brownie points or something?” Stiles hissed. “You usually don’t go near Dad unless I make you.” Also, Sheriff Stilinski had not yet officially heard that his only son dated his ex-best friend's murderer. So, there’s that. Of course, he probably knew anyway. But _still_. Knowing his dad, John wouldn’t say anything until Stiles mentioned it or he’d have no other chance than acknowledge the whole situation.

“He thinks I’m right.”

“Big surprise,” Stiles drawled and Theo narrowed his eyes even further; the distinct colour of yellow flashed through dark lashes for as second. “Should’ve known you’d drop out of a case to snitch.”

Theo slammed the laptop shut. Stiles refrained from asking if he, perhaps, could be a little more careful with his things since they were expensive. But it was most likely better if he didn’t push the chimera any further than he already had. After all, he had full well known how Theo would react to Stiles’ training. He shouldn’t have been naively hoping it could have turned out any differently than it had. Maybe it would have been better if he had told him what he planned before he had actually set out to do it.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said – surprising not only himself but also Theo, who widened his eyes slightly – then added, ever so stubbornly, “for keeping it from you.” Because that was the truth. Stiles was, not at all, sorry for training with blood magic but he should have been honest about it; at least to Theo.  

A beat of silence followed his apology, then a sigh. The expected exclamation of anger didn’t come. “I’m sorry for overreacting,” Theo replied having a much easier time to apologise for his mistakes than he had used to have. But his words didn’t exactly fell in line with his still tight expression. He clenched his teeth and fell back against the wall. After a moment of hesitation, he opened his mouth then closed it again. He clearly struggled with something and pointedly avoided looking in Stiles’ direction doing so. Whatever he planned on saying, he hadn’t only thought about it a lot, he also still had no clue how to say it after all – or if he even wanted to say it.

“I was freaking out,” Theo admitted eventually, and his voice had taken an odd tone. “It was wrong, I know, I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have gone off like that.” Stiles hadn’t been fair either but he wasn’t interrupting Theo now that he opened up and told him what was going on in his head. “But I cannot- I _will not_ let you hurl yourself into danger. I-“ He stopped again, looking up and quickly away again, still pointedly avoiding to meet Stiles’ eye – “I never wanted to become the jackass who used this as an argument-“

Stiles inhaled sharply realising what Theo was about to say. This was not, at all, how he imagined it to be. Then again, maybe that’s the only way it could happen between the two of them. Neither were exactly experienced in how to have a proper relationship.

“You’re everything I have.” The words were rushed, basically forced out – almost like he thought that if he didn’t do it now, he wouldn’t do it at all. It wasn’t exactly what Stiles expected to hear but it was enough to make his world tip to the side. It was enough to have the ground opening underneath him, like someone cut the cord and his bungee jumping turned it into a freefall. “And I will stop you, even if you hate me for it.” He finally looked up, his expression determined as he locked eyes with Stiles. “I’m in love with you and I don’t care if you don't want to hear it or don’t feel the same about me.”

Stiles thought his throat closed for a moment. He found that you could never be prepared for words like these even if you expected them, even if you knew they were coming. But maybe that’s how it was supposed to be. Stiles had never been in this position. It had never gone this far with Malia and saying it to Lydia or his father was something entirely else. _I love you_ had a completely different ring to it or maybe it depended on the person saying these words. But _Theo_ saying… it had an impact and Stiles had no idea how to react to it.

“Your silence was expected,” Theo muttered dully; his expression carefully controlled although he tried to make it sound like he didn’t care at all if Stiles wouldn’t reciprocate them. “But I thought you’d look a little less traumatised after Tara.”

Stiles glanced at his hands for a second willing his expression to relax. Of course, he knew. Everyone in the pack knew after what had happened in Pasadena. It was still completely different when these quiet assumptions were confirmed at last. “Give me a second,” he whispered barely audible,

“So, you can process something you were already aware of?” Theo sighed. “I don’t expect you to-“

Stiles suddenly leaned over, completely diminishing the distance between the two of them. As he kissed Theo now, it felt different, better somehow, less urgent – less like Stiles needed to show Theo that he cared about him. There was not a single doubt lingering in the back of his mind, and for the first time, Stiles was one hundred percent sure that every time they’d butt heads, every time someone squinted at Theo for behaving weird and every second he'd put into his healing was worth it. He couldn’t care less that it would ever be perfect – or that it would never be the storybook relationship he had imagined as a kid. It would be a bumpy road. It would suck and Stiles would more often than not have to urge to murder this idiot – but _fuck it_.

“I’m in love with me, too.”

Theo suddenly moved, pressing Stiles into the mattress. “I hate you,” he said before leaning down to kiss him again; all of his hesitation, all of his gnawing worry simply gone. Stiles wrapped an arm around his shoulders pulling him further down. His lips didn’t feel as unfamiliar as the press of his body or the hands on his skin. It seemed so strange as Theo kissed a small trail down his throat and found his place between Stiles' legs.

“ _Theo_ -“

He stopped immediately glancing up at him. “I don’t care,” Theo whispered, a small smile curling around his lips. “I don’t care as long as it’s you.” He pushed a strand of hair behind Stiles' ear, careful, gentle. “But we don’t have to go any further, if you don’t want to.”

Stiles ran his fingers through Theo's hair and grinned, sheepishly. “I love you.” For a second, he despised that the first time he managed to tell Theo this, his voice wasn’t his own. But that hardly mattered anymore as he saw Theo's whole face light up – and the stupidest, goofiest smile appeared on his lips. It lasted for a few seconds rendering him young and innocent and healthy. Then he leaned down again, placing his lips at the corner of Stiles’ mouth.

“I love you,” Theo said again.

“I love you,” Stiles agreed.

He never believed words could change something. But, perhaps, this time they did. Or maybe it was more the acknowledgment behind these words, the realisation of how they really felt about each other. And now, that it was out in the world, every touch, every kiss, every look they shared was more telling than the next. They didn’t only circle around each other, existing in the same space during the same time. They became part of each other – and Stiles found that it wasn’t as terrifying as he anticipated it to be. They added and extra layer, an extra slot for additional happiness, additional love, additional pain.  

Stiles arched up and Theo held him close. They barely moved, stuck close to each other – and yet it was the most intense encounter the two had ever had. Everything was turning, reaching for one thing, in the same direction. His skin was burning wherever Theo touched it. He could feel him everywhere, inside him, on him, around him.

Sharp teeth scratched the skin at his shoulder. A second later, Theo turned his face away, breathing heavily. Stiles leaned up a little pressing his mouth to the crook of his neck. “It’s fine,” he whispered feeling Theo going rigid as control slipped through his fingers. He was growling, fingers clenching and unclenching in the sheets beside his head. Stiles wrapped his arms around his shoulders to pull him down again. Theo growled, his movements stuttering. “Don’t hold back,” he whispered catching a flash of yellow as Theo dared to turn his head. “It’s okay.”

Stiles heard another growl, a lot weaker this time.

“You can let go with me.”

Another stutter of movements. A noise, so quiet, that sounded like it was punched out of him.

Stiles tilted his head, ever so slightly and pressed his lips against the shell of Theo's ear. “Mark me.”

It seemed to shatter the last control Theo had over himself – and that’s exactly what Stiles had intended. Sharp teeth sunk into his shoulder, causing a flash of white, hot, angry pain. He gritted his teeth together to keep any traitorous noise inside. A second later, the chimera collapsed on top of him, a shuddering mess. The canines vanished and were replaced with soft lips trailing the bite before Theo hid his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck.

Stiles let him, one arm wrapped loosely around the chimera while he was running his fingers up and down Theo's side, ignoring the ache in his shoulder. Goosebumps appeared on sweaty skin. They lied there in silence for so long that Stiles thought Theo might have fallen asleep. But he stirred, eventually, and pressed a kiss to his throat before propping himself up on his elbows. “You are the worst person.”

“Because I give you what you want?” Stiles asked pushing a couple of short strands away that stuck to Theo’s forehead.

“For enabling me.” With a grunt, Theo fell onto his back.

Stiles rolled onto his stomach, ignoring the odd feeling between his legs, and propped himself up on Theo’s chest, who instantly wrapped his arms around him. “It doesn’t hurt to lose control once in a while.”

“It doesn’t hurt _me_.”

“You only bit me,” Stiles replied easily. “You didn’t tear off a limp. _Also_ -“ He put a hand over Theo’s mouth to stop the reply already forming on his lips – “I like to have your mark on me.”

The loose hold Theo had on him before that tightened suddenly. A shadow flickered over his expression and his pupils delated, forcing the blue away. “Other people use hickeys,” Theo said in a low voice, eyebrow raised. His lips curled in a small smirk. He already knew the answer to that – they weren’t like other people and Stiles wouldn’t quite be satisfied with a hickey somewhere on his body. There were enough markings on his body; Stiles needed it to be something that stood out. It would heal, anyway, like it always did – unlike Donovan’s bite. The scar faded but it still was all too prominently residing on his right shoulder. “I feel like I shouldn’t reward you for being an idiot.” Theo turned them around again, the smile on his face widening into a grin. “But I’m in a generous mood.”

“Oh, _really_ ,” Stiles drawled.

“Yeah,” Theo agreed nipping at Stiles’ jaw, “really.”

 

It was around seven p.m. when Lydia carefully knocked on the door. Theo, who had curled up at Stiles' side one arm loosely slung around his waist, startled slightly but didn't seem to wake up at the noise. He was still mostly naked, only slipped into his boxers after they had showered, so Stiles decided to pull the blankets up a little further. He was completely dressed, although now wearing one of Theo’s hoodies instead of his own.

“Yeah?” He asked just loud enough that his voice was heard outside.

A moment later, the door creaked making Theo stir again. But as Stiles continued to run his fingers through his hair, he still didn’t wake up entirely. They had talked a little after coming out of the shower and Theo had admitted that he hadn’t been able to calm down at all after what he had done. Stiles hadn’t said anything but instead huddled up to him. He didn’t want to make Theo feel worse for this outbreak because he was fully aware that he still hated himself enough for what he had done, but he didn’t intent to dismiss it completely. It was kind of a tricky situation and Stiles didn’t know what to say now either.

“Hey,” Lydia whispered immediately catching on to the situation, “I just wanted to check in on you.” Her eyes swept through the room taking in the surroundings. But aside from the books on the floor beside the bed and Theo's clothes as well as Stiles’ hoodie neatly folded on the yet unpacked box in the corner of the room, there wasn’t really anything to be seen.

Stiles smiled at her and closed the laptop. After Theo had fallen asleep, he had tried to get more information on their current case. But he couldn’t really narrow it down. There were, in fact, lots and lots of sexually active demons, ghosts and other monsters; from one-eyed winged creatures to dolphins being able to shift into humans. He had seen some things that scarred him for life.

“We’re fine.”

Lydia reciprocated his smile, then stepped into the room tentatively. “That’s nice to hear.” She interlaced her fingers behind her back, her eyes still taking in the room. Eventually, her gaze fell to the box on the floor again. “What’s in there?”

“Clothes,” Stiles replied raising a brow. “Why?”

She shrugged and turned to watch the two of them. “This room needs a bit…” Lydia hesitated, her eyes roaming over Theo’s unmoving form for a few seconds, “I feel like it’s a little-“

“Impersonal?”

Lydia nodded.

“Yeah,” he said knowing full well where she was coming from, “he doesn’t really have anything. I mean-“ Stiles broke off, frowning. After he had given up his façade of having a normal life with normal parents and everything, Theo had lived in the Dread Doctor’s operation theatre hidden in the underground tunnels. It’s not that he really had the chance to evolve some interests or hobbies or anything of the like. Or make friends – so it’s not like he had any photos to hang up. Stiles knew Theo listened all the time, even if not exclusively, to a Norwegian DJ who had some pretty decent album covers but he wasn’t quite sure if Theo was the type of guy who’d put posters on his walls. He was thinking about getting some pictures. Buying Theo a birthday present had almost killed his brain and it hadn’t exactly been helpful that Theo hadn’t seemed to have a problem to get him a birthday present – that the two of them had their birthdays only seven days apart didn’t make the whole thing any easier. His generally poor skills at buying birthday presents was now overshadowed by the ease with which Theo managed to choose what to gift him. “He'll get there eventually.”

Lydia nodded again, then added, “Has he talked about the incident in Pasadena at all?”

Stiles could feel himself go cold all over. “No,” he replied then, trying his hardest to sound like that was perfectly fine, “at least not to me – and I won’t push him,” he added perhaps a little too sharply.

Lydia raised a brow. “I never forced you to talk about being possessed again, did I?” She reminded him in the same tone and crossed her arms.

“You didn’t,” Stiles agreed quietly. He hadn’t intended to insinuate anything and he felt like a dick for accidentally doing so. A sigh fell from his lips. Obviously, he should talk to somebody about being possessed, yet again, by a considerably angry spirit. But he had refrained from doing so ever since they had come back. It wasn’t really that he didn’t want to talk about it. He’d just rather sort it out for himself first – and he didn’t want to tell the world how much hatred Tara truly held for her brother; she simply couldn’t understand how someone she had loved more than herself had been able to do something so horrible to her. Stiles didn’t want to tell Theo how much Tara still loved him either. This was something he intended to keep from him forever; and Stiles doubted that would be possible if he told anybody about his experience. It would be easier for Theo to let go of Tara if he thought she simply despised him.

Isaac calling for them startled both Lydia and Stiles out of their silence.

“Liam arrived with the food,” Lydia explained with a small frown. “We need to pick up cooking again.”

Stiles sighed. “Yeah.” He turned to Theo then, carefully shaking his shoulder. “Hey.” With a smile, he bent over to press a kiss to the back of his head. “Wake up.” Lydia chuckled but didn’t leave as Stiles continued to slowly wake the chimera up. “There’s food.” Something that usually woke every teen wolf and chimera made Theo grunt quietly then curl closer to Stiles hiding his face at his side. “Dude,” he said flicking his ear, “wake up.”

Theo groaned again, although this time he sounded a lot more awake. “You’re the worst at this,” he muttered accepting his fate.

“I could’ve kicked you.”

Theo let out the groan of a long-suffering man. “It’s the pet names,” he complained. “ _Dude_ , seriously.”

“I’m not calling you babe,” Stiles shot back decisively. With a roll of his eyes, he swung his legs out of the bed, effectively pulling at the blankets with that. Lydia cackled at yet another sound of displeasure erupting from the chimera. “I could call you _luv_ , though.”

Theo pretended to retch, then shuffled around enough to sling his arms around Stiles’ waist to keep him from standing up. “You hang around too much with that Cockney breed,” he muttered but he grinned at that, his lips pressing against the nape of his neck. “Maybe we can eat up here?”

“No.” Although tremendously tempting, Stiles shot that idea down immediately. “We have a case. Also, Lydia’s here, so please, keep your hands above my clothes?” He added with an almost timid smile in her direction because Theo seemed to think it a good idea to hide his hands underneath the hoodie.

“I’m hoping she gets the hint.”

“Oh,” Lydia chuckled raising her hands in mock-defence, then crossed her arms with the biggest grin on her lips Stiles had seen in quite some time. “Don’t mind me.”

Theo kissed the nape of his neck.

“She didn’t mean that _literally_!” Stiles exclaimed elbowing Theo in the ribs, who let go of him laughing under his breath.

Lydia didn’t agree or disagree, instead her smirk turned a lot more mischievously. But it grew fonder by the second as Theo pressed a kiss to Stiles’ temple and he smiled up at him. “You two seem,” she began slowly watching the chimera scramble out of bed before Stiles to gather sweatpants and a tank top, “different.”

“Do we?” Stiles asked sheepishly.

Theo did his best to keep the grin off his face and instead focused on Stiles again. “Can you walk?” He asked. A moment later, he turned to Lydia with an overly dramatic roll of his eyes. “He fell out of the shower.”

“I didn’t fall out of the shower,” Stiles complained but he watched his left foot tentatively, “I slipped and twisted my ankle.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, too. “You wouldn’t survive on your own, would you?”

 

“Liam!” Stiles interrupted Mason’s rant about Coach's latest social misstep – he was rude to Corey for being not quite the best goalie the Cyclones had had – but aside from Kira, who was too polite to pretend, as well as Jackson and Danny, who were obviously deeply amused by this outbreak, nobody really listened. Lydia and Isaac talked quietly over something or other, then and again squinting in Theo and Stiles’ direction, who both behaved very well-mannered and busied themselves with their sushi – which might or might not be due to Sheriff Stilinski and Jordan Parrish’s presence. Corey was trying to hide his face behind his arm all the time and probably begged his boyfriend to stop exaggerating on his behalf. And Liam didn’t stop staring at Stiles up to a point where it got tremendously unnerving. As he finally managed to snap Stiles’ patience, he flinched looking like a frightened squirrel instead of a ravenous wolf.

Isaac craned his neck to watch Liam sink into his seat, cheeks flushing a deep red. Mason patted his shoulder. But Stiles noticed a familiar sparkle in his eyes. It was a best friend’s job to find situations like this tremendously amusing. He remembered very well how much he enjoyed Scott’s awkward encounters with everyone and everything.

“So,” John said obviously using the awkward silence to his advantage, “how is school going, Theo?”

Stiles and Theo exchanged a quick look. They still hadn’t told his dad about them dating but Stiles figured that they didn’t have much telling to do – especially not after Theo had run to the police station like a headless chicken to snitch on Stiles. Not to mention that he had basically bought his way into the Sheriff’s office to prevent getting shot on the spot with a goddamn hamburger and French Fries.

“I’ve got a B+ in my last AP Biology exam,” Theo answered truthfully, a faint proud smile on his lips. But it vanished only a second later. “Sir,” he added glancing up and then down before pushing his backbone where it belongs to meet John's eyes.

“A B+?” John asked mildly impressed. It wasn’t his father’s usual style to be this condescending about other people’s grades. But this were, sadly, special circumstances. Still, Stiles had hoped the awkwardness could happen without the whole pack as well as Jackson and Danny listening in.

Theo cleared his throat. “Yes, Sir.”

Jackson and Danny smirked at each other. Lydia wiped the expression away with a pointedly raised brow.

“Any idea what you want to do after graduation?” Jordan asked in his usual charming inquisitor tone. “It’s only two months away.”

Isaac and Stiles exchanged a look of bemusement. It wasn’t a secret that Sheriff Stilinski practically adopted the hell hound. But neither of them got the memo that they, too, were foster siblings. Stiles knew very well how to deal with his dad. He had, however, not a single clue what to do with Jordan – and since Isaac didn’t know his brother well enough to conclude anything, he only shrugged in confusion at the silent plea for help.

Theo seemed prepared for the question. “I’m intending to major in natural sciences,” he explained easily. “I’ve been interested in them since my early childhood.”

“Sciences,” John echoed dully and it was that exact moment that Theo realised he’d fucked up.

“I’m not-“ He stammered, eyes wide in shock. “That has nothing to do with-“

“Stop,” Stiles interrupted him sharply. “What exactly are you insinuating?”

“Nothing,” John said looking over the range of sushi in the middle of the table before taking another Maki roll. “We’re just interested in what your pack wants to do after school.”

“This isn’t about my pack’s future plans,” Stiles shot back immediately and his tone of voice made especially the werewolves stiffen in their seats. He could feel Jackson tense beside him. Liam and Isaac both shifted on their chairs. Theo glanced at Stiles, then back down on his plate, shoulders a tight line. Even Corey seemed like his tone was affecting him because he’d stopped eating, his fork hovering halfway to his mouth.

John put his cutlery down. Jordan followed suit, which made Isaac cover his face in utmost embarrassment. “What do you think this is about then?” John asked sounding more like his father than the sheriff; and that, to be fair, was highly terrifying. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Stiles clenched his teeth; his temper churning right under the surface. He breathed in and out, refraining himself from snapping and with that making the whole situation worse; or rather made a situation bad that wasn’t even bad in the first place. Of course, his father was targeting Theo for a specific reason, namely that he knew exactly what kind of relationship he had with his son. This reaction was to be expected, though, he still hoped this would be happening without so many ears and eyes witnessing it.

But before he can open his mouth to unceremoniously tell the truth, his phone destroyed the tense silence. Stiles got to his feet instantly and crossed the room to snatch it from the kitchen counter, where they had put all their mobile phones before dinner. It was kind of a rule they had established. Since they didn’t often had the time to have dinner together, they had decided to at least make their table a phone-free zone. If they weren't in the middle of a case, Stiles wouldn't have gotten up to take the call in the first place.

Brett’s name lit up his display. He answered instantly. “Hey, what’s up?”

“There’s another dead body,” Brett replied without a flicker of hesitation. “But this time, we have a witness.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooh, Lord. My muse is back. This story was the epitome of 'I really hate this ending and everything about it' and twice I was about to delete it and pretend it never happened.  
> But - BUT - I finally managed to get my head wrapped around it. Sooo, if there's still anyone around, it continues!

They had haphazardly thrown a team together and two hours later, Lydia, Stiles, Theo and Brett arrived at the police department in Red Bluff where the eyewitness was currently questioned by officers. Mrs. Dawson, whom Brett has called shortly before arrival, hurried over the street and towards their car. Stiles lowered his window.

“Thank you for coming so soon,” she told them in a hushed voice.

Brett squeezed her hand awkwardly through the small gap between Stiles' seat and the window. She smiled at him. “Okay.” The gesture seemed to calm her down a little. “I talked to Sheriff Larsson. He most likely thinks I’m crazy _but_ because of the current murders, he gave me a chance. He wants to talk to you.”

Stiles cast a short glance at Theo, who drew his eyebrows in. They knew exactly what this talk would be about. It reasonable to want to talk to these strangers before allowing them to interview an eyewitness. But they still had to be careful who they'd expose the supernatural world to – or how much they revealed about themselves.

Brett seemed to know where their apprehension came from. “Do you trust him?”

Mrs. Dawson pursed her lips in a very Lydia-way. It told Stiles everything he needed to know. “He is a good Sheriff,” she answered then slowly, “but he… doesn’t believe in your life. I’d recommend you keep quiet about who you really are.” Stiles instantly grew fond of her. Many people would refer to them as _what_. Perhaps she didn’t because she was friends with Satomi for a long time. But still. It was nice to hear she thought about them as normal people rather than monsters or animals.

“What did you tell them about us?” Lydia asked leaning forward a little.

“I mentioned that you have had cases like this before.”

“You told him a bunch of teenagers have dealt with weird murders?” Theo repeated with a raised brow, his scepticism seeped through every syllable. “Wonder how he reacted to that.”

Stiles slapped his thigh. It probably hurt him more than it did Theo, but at least he got the point across. His grip tightened on the steering wheel for a second, then he looked away from the poor woman. No apology was expected. For now, it was enough when Theo felt bad, though. So, he patted his abused thigh before pulling his hand back and smiling apologetically.

“Well,” Mrs. Dawson began seemingly unbothered by Theo’s aggravatingly annoying behaviour – this was the reason Stiles didn’t like to take him to these types of meetings. “He is willing to speak with you.” Which was meaning a lot considering that Sheriff Larsson did not know about the supernatural world. Not many police officers would agree to talk to outsiders, much less teenagers, about an ongoing investigation; especially not when it involved murders. She stepped away from the car and, with an unanimous sigh, the four followed her.

Stiles really didn’t want to know what kind of impression they made on those watching them. Most people here probably thought they had gotten up to something and Mrs. Dawson had caught them in the act. He couldn't really blame them. Stiles was still wearing Theo’s too big hoodie and yoga pants, Brett wore his green lacrosse uniform – telling the world that they weren’t from around here – and Theo had only thrown on his leather jacket before they all left the house, so he strolled through the police station in sweatpants. Lydia was the only one still dressed and styled. Maybe they should have been told that they’d talk to the Sheriff. Because if he was sceptical now, Stiles doubted he would be convinced after meeting them – and sure enough, as Mrs. Dawson lead them past desks, their inhabitants curiously watching them pass, and into the office, the four of them were greeted with raised brows and a lopsided smile which was more condescending than inviting. Stiles hated Sheriff Larsson instantly. He would be a tough nut to crack – and with how he regarded Mrs. Dawson, he understood quite quickly why exactly he agreed to talk to them. For whatever reason, he wanted to score off on her; giving her hope only to shatter it in front of her was a very effective way to do so.

“Sheriff,” she greeted him stiffly – yeah, these two certainly had some not so nice history, “this is Stiles, Lydia, Brett and Theo.” The absence of their last names was noticeable, yet reasonable. Especially considering the fact that Stiles currently resided in the wrong body. The sheriff might have wanted to gather information about them prior to their arrival. Although he figured that having his father’s name and reputation as a backup would give him far easier access to everything he needed, Stiles was sure he could get what he wanted without it.

Sheriff Larsson raised from his chair and crossed the room. “Welcome,” he said with badly hidden amusement, “thank you for coming to support us with this case.” As he offered him his hand, Stiles, who stood at the front of the group, crossed his arms in front of his chest – and he refused to accept it even as Lydia nudged his back as inconspicuously as possible.

“There seems to be a misunderstanding,” Stiles replied crossly ignoring another nudge and the Sheriff’s mildly irritated expression. “We’re not here to support you in this case, we’re here to take it. Unofficially, of course.” Brett muttered something under his breath Stiles couldn’t hear and didn’t exactly care about. Larsson was an asshole, so he needed to talk asshole. Simple as that. He’d mouthed off to federal agents before, had commanded a police department and annoyed the crap out of his dad more than once. He wasn’t that terrified – and as long as he didn’t do anything that could be considered illegal, it’s not like he had to worry about anything in particular.

Larsson folded his arms over his chest. Although he pretended to be amused by this behaviour, Stiles could see the anger in the way he tightened his lips. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Stiles replied easily. “You know as much as I do that you have no idea how to solve this case.”

“But you do?”

“I just need the witness’ report and we’re most likely settled.”

Larsson stared at him for a second, then his gaze flicked over the faces of Lydia, Brett and Theo. Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles noticed the smirk on the latter’s lips. Of course, Theo would fucking enjoy him being a jackass to someone from law enforcement. He hadn’t expected anything else. But neither Lydia nor Larsson appeared very happy with his current behaviour. “You really _think_ ,” Larsson said now barely hiding his displeasure about the whole situation, “I would give any case to a loud-mouthed teenage girl and her friends?”

“I’m of legal age, if that’s what bothers you.”

“Dr. Dawson.” Larsson turned around – and Stiles now realised for the first time, that Mrs. Dawson never introduced herself as doctor to them. Hearing it now, it seemed like this title was used to create an extra layer of distance between the two of them. “Is this supposed to be an elaborated joke?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Do you have any idea what's really going on? What do you think happens to your people?”

“They are not sucked dry by an old hag!” Larsson bellowed so loud that not only Stiles flinched away, but the bustling outside the office suddenly quieted down by a lot. It seemed like the whole office was wrapped in thick cotton wool for multiple seconds.

Then it burned away. “Is that what she says happened?” Brett asked stunned. “An old ugly lady killed the guy-“

“You wanna hear my theory, kid?” Larsson asked, and although he seemed exhausted his overall posture was still pretty hostile – especially when his gaze happened to fall onto Stiles. “She found her boyfriend in their apartment with another woman, flipped her shit and killed him.”

“Her boyfriend?” Lydia exchanged a quick look with Stiles. The others had been single, if he remembered correctly. At least none of the family members had known anything about a significant other, and Danny hadn't found anything during his research either. If they weren't masters of secretly dating, they had not been in a relationship prior to their death; unlike this guy. _Fantastic_. Another possible connection just flew out of the window. What was it with this case? It couldn't be that fucking hard. There had to be something that drove this creature to chose these guys over any other.

But the ‘ _old hag_ ’ might be something that could possibly help narrowing the search down. Perhaps there was one creature, out of the many Stiles had found, that looked like an ugly old woman – or transformed into one. Unless she meant hag in the other way; which then would translate into a witch or a female demon. _Demons_. A witch, he could deal with. Demons were something entirely else.

Stiles pressed two fingers to his temple. “How do you think she killed him?” He made a dismissive gesture. “And what about the other dead guys? Do you want to pin their murder on her, too? Is that how you operate?”

“Listen to me, Missy-“ Larsson bent low, so he was face to face with Stiles, who pursed his lips indignantly; _Missy_ , what a jackass – “How I run things in my town is none of your business. Because of the odd deaths, I was ready to hear you out, but I realise now, that might have been a mistake.” He leaned back again – and it was then that Stiles felt a tight grip around his wrist. Theo had grabbed him. What did he think he’d do? Punch a sheriff? “So, instead of wasting my time-“

“Five minutes,” Stiles interrupted him stubbornly, “give us five minutes, and you won’t see us again.”

“I will not-“

“We can also wait until she’s released,” Stiles continued as if Larsson had not just tried to say something. “Since you suspect her of a crime, you can keep her for 48 hours tops. But we both know every lawyer could get her out way sooner because you have _nothing_ on her. So, how about we stop wasting each other’s time? You let us talk to the witness for five fucking minutes, and we’ll be gone. You won’t have to see us again unless you invite us.”

Larsson squeezed his lips into a tight white line. For a second, he glanced at Mrs. Dawson; a gaze full of annoyance and dismissal. Stiles really wondered what was going on between the two of them. “Two minutes,” he decided then, “and you’re not going.”

“Fine by me.” Stiles had a hard time keeping the smirk off his lips. Instead he turned around. “Lydia, Brett.” The two nodded. “We’ll be in the café outside.”

 

Theo and Stiles had just gotten around to buy five coffees – Mrs. Dawson insisted on staying with them – as the bell above the door was ringing again. The young barista flashed her white teeth at Brett – she'd greeted Theo the same way, and Stiles had definitively not liked it at all. He wasn’t usually jealous, but tonight he happened to be slightly on edge; probably because of his father’s stupid behaviour. It didn’t matter, really. He only wanted that chick to keep her perfect teeth and her pretty mouth and pretty everything away from his boyfriend. Theo had noticed the sudden change in emotions and curled an arm around his waist. But he hadn’t had the chance to ask, yet. Stiles knew that he would eventually, and he would _love_ to tease him with it, since Stiles was usually the one to be pissed at Theo’s possessive jealousy.

“And?” Mrs. Dawson asked inching to the edge of her chair.

Theo set the tray down before slipping into the booth after Stiles.

Brett shook his head. “She reeked of drugs. I have no idea _what_ that chick was taking but, holy crap, that girl was high as fuck.”

Mrs. Dawson levelled a withering glare at werewolf, who grabbed his coffee cup with a sly grin. “I was hoping you figured something out.”

“Oh Tina, you’re underestimating our abilities.” Brett sent another smile in her direction, one that would’ve made so many people swoon and drool after him. Knowing Brett the way Tina did, however, seemed to have made her resistant to his charms. Stiles and Lydia exchanged a short look; and their thoughts should probably be filed away to never be discovered by either of their boyfriends.

“Well,” Lydia began drawing the attention away from Brett, “she repeated the story to us. An old hag sucked the life out of her boyfriend.”

“And unless she is as great a liar as Stiles is-“

“ _Hey_!”

“-it is the truth,” Brett finished with a dismissive gesture in Stiles’ direction.

Theo patted his boyfriend's thigh. “Anything else?”

Lydia sipped on her coffee, pursing her lips. That didn’t bode well. “They were at a party and fought about her use of drugs. Apparently, they were trying to get a child. He blamed her substance abuse for not getting pregnant.” She pursed her lips. It was a sensitive topic; it would always be and it would always fill Stiles with a sense of dread. He knew how hard it could be to deal with someone abusing drugs. Stiles curled his hands around the warm cup, running his thump along the plastic lid. “She-“ Lydia quietly cleared her throat before continuing- “She said that he had gone home before her, and as she had come home, well...”

Stiles frowned. “And she didn’t do _anything_?”

Tina raised her brows. “What was she supposed to do?”

“Smack that bitch, for starters.”

“ _What_?” Theo squinted at him.

“Well, think about it,” Stiles insisted gesturing almost furiously. “She came home and she saw either-“ He held up a finger- “another woman sucking her boyfriends dick _or_ -“ He held up another finger, wriggling them both for emphasis- “She saw someone killing her boyfriend, and she just stood there? I’d grab the first solid object and smack her.” He contemplated the possible ramifications for a second. “Or at least pull her off and _then_ smack her. Who just stands there and lets it happen?!”

Lydia pursed her lips, tilting her head to the left.

“She was beyond hopped-up,” Brett reminded him with a raised brow. “I don’t think she realised what she was seeing.”

“So, it was basically for naught,” Theo concluded leaning against the backrest and put his arm around Stiles’ shoulders, pulling him against his side.

“We know that he was at a party and left alone,” Lydia said pressing the cup against her bottom lip.

“If it was a party,” Stiles contemplated patting Theo’s thigh before sitting up again, “there have to be pictures. Maybe Danny can find something? I mean, maybe he left with someone. Maybe that’s how she chooses her victims. If she’s an old lady, she might not be physically strong...” He trailed off. That didn’t really make any fucking sense.

Brett seemed to agree with him. “Who’d go home with a hag?” He asked rubbing the back of his neck. “We have to be realistic here, she probably doesn’t know about-“ Brett quickly flicked his gaze to the barista, who was in deep conversation with one of her colleagues- “y’know. Which means we have to take what she said literally. She saw a hag: an old, fugly lady. No matter how smashed, you don’t go home with a woman like that.”

“Unless she drives a car,” Lydia remarked.

Theo trailed Stiles’ lower back with his finger tips. “So, a cab or an Uber driver.”

“That could, perhaps, narrow it down.” Tina pursed her lips.

Stiles huffed out a breath. “That only helps us if the others were going home from a party or a club as well. Other than that, the information doesn’t do anything.”

“This fucking sucks.” Brett put his head in his hands groaning audibly.

Stiles sighed. “Tell me about it.” He propped his head on his knuckles and ran the nail of his pinkie over his bottom lip. This wasn’t exactly how he’d hoped the encounter to turn out. Of course, he hadn’t exactly expected a breakthrough on the case. But he had hoped for a bit more information than the fact that they were killed by an old, ugly woman; an information they had on top of everything received from a drug addict – so, how valuable was it really? “I don’t want to dim the mood…” He began reluctantly, “but what if she wasn’t really _that_ old? I mean, how old was the witness? Twenty? Twenty-one?”

“Nineteen,” Tina agreed.

“So, our age,” Stiles concluded, “Let’s be honest here. Forty is old for us. No offense, Mrs. Dawson.”

“None taken.”

“On top of that, she was on drugs. Whoever killed her boyfriend could have been mid-thirties and she’s just exaggerating.”

Theo pulled his hand away with a sigh and grabbed his coffee.

Lydia let out a breath.

All of them knew, but none of them were ready to admit that the eyewitness' report hadn’t really helped them. If anything, it was only irritating Stiles more. _Fuck_ everything, seriously. Tina was a wonderful woman, and he really, really wanted to help her – but Stiles had not a single clue where to start. He would try to narrow everything down about the whole age thing. There could be something, hopefully. He’d also ask Danny if he could broaden his search. Perhaps he was able to link the other victims to parties or clubs. If they were lucky, these things could turn out to be leads. If not… well, that would suck even more.

“Can I bring you anything else?” The barista appeared beside Theo, smiling her wonderful smile.

Completely out of nowhere, Stiles _hated_ her. That wasn’t usually his way to go. He didn’t irrationally despise people for being pretty and smiling like they swallowed the goddamn sun. It’s not the first time someone smiled at Theo either or attempted to flirt with him. Theo _never_ reacted to it, although he had threatened multiple times that, one day, he would make Stiles jealous just out if spite. Stiles had always nodded at that, and had told Theo to go ahead and try; he trusted that he'd never cheat on him. Additionally, the young woman looked _nothing_ like him. She probably wasn't even Theo's type – if the guy had something that could be called a type. So, what the hell made him hate her this much?

“Something to eat, maybe?”

“No,” Stiles said icily without looking away from the window; he met her eyes in the reflection. She narrowed hers dangerously. “We’re fine.” She was probably a nice girl. She _looked_ nice. What the everlasting fuck was wrong with him?

The barista pursed her lips. “Is that true for everyone?” Her voice was clipped.

Stiles furrowed his brows, but Brett answered before he could open his mouth for a reply. “Yes, we’re actually about to drive back home.” And to stop the situation from possibly getting worse, he snatched his coffee cup and raised to his feet. “Maybe next time.” He smiled at her, charming as ever, while Theo was tugging at Stiles’ arm. Although this would be his chance to act on his threat, the chimera didn’t risk it. Instead he walked past the barista, glancing over his shoulder at Stiles.

Lydia tucked her arm into Stiles’. It was her who pulled him out of the little café, eyes narrowed in a way that told him he royally annoyed her; and as soon as the door closed behind them, she tsked. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Stiles told her, tightening his hold on the coffee cup.

“Nothing?” Brett echoed. “You reek of anger.”

“It’s not just that,” Theo remarked sounding irritably smug about something. As per usual, he probably had the answer to everything. Sometimes Stiles really, really hated him. “First, you snapped at Liam.”

“He was annoying me.”

“He was just looking at you,” Lydia reminded him.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, “that was annoying.”

“Well, following Liam, you snapped at your dad _and_ Jordan,” Theo continued completely unfazed by the interruption. Instead he leaned over the hood of his car watching Stiles closely. “After that, you almost screwed our chance to talk to the eyewitness because you had to be a complete dick to Larsson; until you basically blackmailed your way back in and now you almost flipped your shit because of a polite barista; and don’t put it on the job. You're not that horrible when a case is stressing you.”

For a second, Stiles was tempted to throw his coffee at Theo. Instead he leaned over the hood opposite the chimera, raising a brow. “My favourite kind of conversations are the ones where you know exactly what I’m going to say; so I don’t have to say anything. But are you ever going to make your point? Because I have research to do.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Perhaps you should’ve done more research on using blood magic,” he said tapping the hood of his car. “Welcome, to withdrawal, babe. It’s going to be an emotional rollercoaster until your blood's clean again.”

Stiles stiffened. Lydia let out a small sound of surprise. It seemed like they both remembered the same thing at the same time. _Right_. In the book Satomi had given him, something was written about emotions being heightened or affected or something like this. But Stiles thought it was _while_ practising it not when he suddenly stopped using blood magic. “You think this is incredible funny, don't you?”

“I think it teaches you a lesson,” Theo replied still smirking. “You’ll have a few fun days ahead of you.”

Tina gave a quiet chuckle. “I wish you a peaceful ride home.”

Brett groaned.

 

“I don’t know what’s pissing me off more,” Stiles muttered sitting up again, “that I’m still stuck in this body or that we don’t have a goddamn lead.”

Two days had passed and nothing, absolutely _nothing_ , had happened. They hadn’t found anything either. No pictures, no records of a woman driving taxis to and from clubs and parties. The only thing they knew was that the thing hunted at parties. But that was only helping so much – and considering the heightened hunger this thing had displayed the last few days, it was considerably odd that it hadn’t fed again. His pack, especially Theo, tried to stop him from constantly checking the news for another death. But no matter what they had come up with over the past few days, Stiles did not believe this _hag_ – for the lack of a better term – had simply disappeared or, as Isaac had so kindly suggested, had gone into hibernation.

Jordan offered him a hand. “How about you concentrate on the training?”

Stiles let himself be pulled to his feet again grimacing.

“Are you insinuating Stiles is usually better at that?” Jackson chuckled to himself. He and Danny had found their places at the edge of the pool. It was really unfair that werewolves did not get a sunburn because that would be the only thing which could actually lighten his mood right now. He was sweating profusely since he was the only one who didn’t really have the chance to get rid of his clothes; because he didn’t have any that fit him – he currently wore one of Kira’s sport bras and a cropped top from Lydia alongside with her yoga pants. It was literally all he could do; and he had refused to go shopping with the girls. Although he was aware that he couldn’t run around in hoodies and yoga pants until he was back in his body. But the others had either gone swimming – like Danny, Kira and Jackson – or were at least milling around with as little clothes as possible; Theo, Liam, Corey and Mason were studying shirtless – Mason had managed to annoy Theo until he had agreed to help them study for their biology test next week – Lydia was getting a tan in her bikini and Jordan had discarded his shirt earlier during their training. The only person who suffered with him was his dad, who wore his police uniform, or at least most of his police uniform. He’d gotten rid of the shirt and only wore a simple tee while he was working on his laptop in the shadows of the house. Leave it to his dad to work during his free time; if anybody wondered where Stiles had his attitude towards work from, they wouldn’t have to look very far.

“Yes, that is exactly what I am saying.” Jordan rolled his shoulders before going back into attack stance. “If he concentrates, at least.”

Stiles groaned, but he followed Jordan. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Than watching you flail around?” Jackson chuckled in utter amusement. “Not really, no.”

Lydia peaked over the edge of the book she was currently reading. But she wasn’t looking at them. Instead she glanced past Jordan and Stiles to where the study groups resided. Curiously, Stiles craned his neck to check why she was looking at them and spotted Mason smacking Liam with his biology book. Corey shook his head. Theo rolled his eyes before snatching the book out of Mason’s hand and casting it back on the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles noticed a fist flying his way. “ _Holy_ -“ He managed to duck in time to evade the punch, then came up blocking the next. It was a rapid succession of movements which ultimately lead to Jordan managing to grab his arm and slam him into the table the four were working on. His hips connected uncomfortably but not all too hard with the wood.

Jordan let go of his arm and patted the spot between his shoulder blades. “What did you do wrong?”

“I got distracted,” Stiles answered honestly, then he pointed at Liam’s notes. “Lamarck’s the one who thinks evolution has a predetermined plan, by the way.”

“What?”

“Liam!” Theo sounded more than a little exasperated. “I _just_ told you that. If you ask me for help, at least listen to what I tell you.”

“It’s really not that hard,” Corey agreed.

Stiles tousled Liam’s hair smiling at Theo. The chimera shook his head, but his lips twitched into a small smile as well. “Now, then.” He pushed himself off the table and walked over to Jordan again. This time, he would concentrate. It’s not like he had a chance against Jordan, yet, who was _really_ good at fighting.

“One more fight,” Jordan said, “all bets are off. Use everything you’ve learned so far.” He scratched his lower back before raising his hands again.

Stiles followed suit. _Okay_. It wasn’t easy with so many people around. He could feel their eyes on him. It was hard enough to concentrate when he was training alone with Jordan; many things tended to distract him when they fought. Perhaps because Stiles wasn’t exactly a fighter. He was the brains in the operation, not the brawns – he still understood why he needed to know how to fight because of the life they were living; and it was part of the deal he had made with his dad. Stiles usually kept his promises.

Jordan moved fast. During all the sparring sessions, Stiles had learned one thing. Jordan always went for the face first. _Think fast_. Stiles stepped out of the way instead of blocking; and so, their little dance began. Jordan attacked, Stiles only blocked when he didn’t have any other choice. It was exhilarating. His blood was pumping through his veins. His muscles remembered most of the movements. He had trained enough, and Jordan had stated more than once that he was a quick learner. But there was something else he was good at: watching. While he was dodging Jordan’s punches, evading his kicks with enough distance, he checked for possible chances for a counter. Jordan did not leave chances. Then maybe, he needed to change tactics.

Stiles waited three attacks before, _finally_ , Jordan gave him an opportunity. The next punch was aimed at his gut. His reaction was quick. He grabbed Jordan by the wrist and above his elbow, fingers digging into his skin, knuckles white. Muscles tensed underneath his grip. Stiles used the momentum. He turned into Jordan, back pressed to his chest. His attempt to wrestle him to the ground this way did not work out, however. He had done it once before, but, unfortunately, this body came with restrictions. He was too small and did neither have enough strength nor the right leverage to move or throw him. Jordan, noticing the failed attempt quickly, wrapped an arm around his throat. Stiles slammed his elbow into his gut before he could put any pressure on it. He managed to get two hits in before Jordan threw him to the ground.

 _Fuck_.

Stiles came to his feet so quick it surprised even him. As he turned on his heels, he spotted Lydia sitting up straighter. Then his attention snapped back to Parrish. He noticed the arm at his back, the solid black object in his left hand. A gun. Jordan pulled a fucking gun on him. _You might be hunted to._ His body moved before he had really understood _what_ he was doing. Stiles grabbed Jordan’s wrist and pushed it out if his face, the shot would miss him now. His thumb found the little button just behind the trigger on the left-hand side of the gun. The empty magazine fell out with a click. Although the chamber was empty too, Stiles made a grab for the slide acting like he would force it back. Then he turned Jordan’s wrist in one and the gun in the other direction, forcing him to let go. It was useless now, and Stiles quickly discarded it. No point. It only blocked his hand.

If Jordan was surprised at this reaction, he did not let it show. Instead, he grabbed Stiles again and flung him to the ground. Now, that he didn’t pull a gun on him, Jordan made sure he stayed down. Stiles barely got onto his back, when the hellhound was above him. He pulled his legs to his chest, kicking up. But he wasn’t good at fighting on his back. Jordan quickly found his way beyond the poor defence. He pinned down Stiles’ legs with his own, taking away his chances to get momentum _and_ protecting his groin by simply putting his weight on Stiles’ thighs with his shin. As Stiles went for his face, Jordan grabbed his left upper arm and forced it over Stiles’ own throat. Before he could do anything about it, Jordan pinned his other arm to the floor.

Just for his pride, Stiles struggled twice. Then he tapped out.

Chuckling, Jordan pulled him to his feet. “Nice going on the gun.”

“Well, I grew up with one in my house,” Stiles replied massaging his shoulder, “I know how to use them.” He seriously needed a shower now. His clothes stuck to his skin. It was terribly disgusting – he also noticed everybody still staring at him, which didn’t come as a complete surprise. Aside from Liam and Theo, who had been with him during in the beginning of his training, nobody had seen him spar with Jordan.

“I can’t believe this is the guy who couldn’t walk a straight line during lacrosse training,” Jackson stated heaving himself out of the pool.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Maybe it’s hard to believe, but I’m not always a walking catastrophe.”

“You almost fell down the stairs this morning,” Theo deadpanned, “and you ran into the kitchen isle an hour ago.”

Stiles sent him a dirty look. Sometimes, he really, _really_ wondered what the hell made him fall in love with this particular brand of asshole. Then he remembered, he wasn't better. Glowering, he walked over to Lydia who held out her water bottle without comment. Something to drink, a shower and then he'd curl up somewhere in the shadows never to move again. His muscles would hate him tomorrow, he could already feel them.

“Your movements were on point,” Mason said ignoring Theo, who had just opened his mouth to continue their study session. “I’ve never seen you move like that before. That’s so sick.”

Stiles squinted at him, but chose not to comment on that. Silence was golden and such.

“Perhaps because you’ve never seen my son dance.”

Stiles choked on his water. Jackson, taking pity on him, patted his back until he managed to breathe again.

“Yeah,” Danny said looking sceptically at him, “I can imagine how successful that was.” Kira scolded him quietly, but Danny merely shrugged.

Stiles, after taking a deep breath, nodded. “I was horrible.”

Lydia did not look convinced for some reason. But she observed quietly, as per usual. Naturally, Theo took the head-on approach. “You’re usually a lot more defensive about yourself.”

“But Danny’s right.”

“I just called you out on your clumsiness, which is an undisputable fact. Nevertheless-“ Theo turned to look at him again with a shit-eating grin- “you denied it.” He rapped his fingers on the wooden table, not even trying to pretend he was thinking about a possible reason for this contradiction. Both, Theo and Lydia, were always watching. Stiles wasn’t any different. But he didn’t like when his own weapons were used against him; let’s be honest: who does like that? “So, you can dance,” he concluded after a second of silence.

Stiles pulled a face. “Mom sent me to a dance class when I was, like, five? Because of my ADHD.” That was the truth. She didn’t want her son to take pills when there had been other things to try out first.

“Oh, that’s forever ago,” Liam exclaimed, almost sounding a little disappointed.

Stiles capped the bottle again. His dad usually did not talk about his past at a dance class; mostly because he wanted to bury it. With BHHS being so incredibly in love with basketball and lacrosse, Stiles didn’t want anybody to find out that he was a dancer. He had already been an outsider and kind of a spazz; he hadn't really needed people like Jackson picking on him because he had done something that wasn’t considered _cool_ at the time. Although he didn’t exactly belong to the kind of people who cared much about what others thought of him, he still knew that High School could be a terrible place; and the last thing he had wanted had been providing more attack surface than he already had offered anyway.

“But he stopped, when he was fourteen.”

“Dad, what the hell-?”

“No _shit_ ,” Mason exclaimed suddenly abuzz with excitement. “You danced for nine years?”

“Why did you stop?” Corey asked.

“Because I sucked,” Stiles offered unhelpfully. Nobody seemed particularly convinced. Theo even scrunched up his nose and shook his head. “Do I need to have a reason to stop something? I just stopped, okay? I was fourteen. You know how fourteen-year-olds can be; especially when starting High School.” Okay. Granted, with fourteen he had given a lot of shits about what people had been thinking about him. Well, no. He had given a lot of shits about what _Lydia_ had been thinking about him. She had dated a lacrosse jock, so he had needed to become a lacrosse jock. Simple as that. It hadn't helped that he had sucked at lacrosse; at first, at least. He’d gotten better over time. Not Liam before he had been bitten good but _good_. Good enough to play first line at a charity game against Devenford Prep. So, yay.

John hummed. “I just happen to have a video from, what, half a year ago?” He clicked through his computer. “His trainer had asked him to come back before he left for college. A parting gift, of sorts.”

“There’s a video of Stiles dancing?” Jackson asked. In his voice rang a different kind of excitement. He might not be a bully anymore, but he sure wasn’t opposed to making terrible fun of people. “Do you have it with you?”

John nodded. He took the laptop over to the study table and propped it between Corey and Theo. From where he stood, Stiles recognised himself in the yellow tee in front of the red wall of the dance studio. Seemed like his father meant business and Cris had sent him the video after all. Not that it was the only one in existence.

“I need to see that,” Lydia stated, and, apparently his pack seemed to think the same. Even Danny and Jackson made their way over to the sheriff.

Stiles threw the water bottle on the vacated beach chair. “Dad, why?” He was probably making a mountain out of a mole hill but _fucking hell_. Couldn’t some things just stay buried?

“Because every secret will come out eventually, kiddo.” _Oh_. That’s what this was about. John didn’t even need to pointedly look at Theo for Stiles to understand the connection.

Stiles also knew when he had lost.

Pouting, more out of spite than anything else, Stiles stalked over the group clustered around the table. He squeezed past Jordan and Danny to stand behind Theo. With a somewhat defiant glance at his dad, he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders and propped his chin on his head. Theo intertwined their fingers, but he did not dare to look in the sheriff’s direction and his shoulders were a taught line. Stiles kissed the top of his head. “Let's get this over with.”

“You know someone can dance when they’re doing it in those jeans,” Danny examined crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Nice legs, Stilinski.”

“Shut up.”

John hit the play button. Stiles had to admit, it was somewhat weird to watch these videos again, or rather, to watch them with someone other than his dad, his mom or Scott. Although the latter had zero interest in dancing, he always insisted on watching them as soon as Stiles had gotten them. Sometimes he really wished they would have survived their fallout. But whatever. The past was the past, and it’s not like he still danced on the regular or anything.

As the video ended, it was only a little over a minute, Stiles prepared for the worst. Kind of. He _could_ dance. He knew he could. Still, for some reason he felt awkward about this skill. Weird, wasn't it?

“I saw you dance at the winter formal, at the neon party and at prom,” Lydia exclaimed with clear accusation in her tone, “I demand an explanation.”

“Oh, _right_.” Kira’s face lit up at the memory.

Danny frowned. “He danced like a dork.”

“Teach me,” Mason said tapping on the table.

Stiles shook his head. “No,” he replied clipped.

“There are more videos, right?” Lydia asked pointing at the screen. “That’s not the only one?”

“There’s an USB drive somewhere in my bedroom.”

“You mean this?” John conjured up the aforementioned item with an almost mischievous expression.

Stiles snatched it away from him a little too aggravated. He could say a lot of things. Like, what the hell was he doing searching through his bedroom? Stiles knew he had not left it somewhere obvious. But instead of snapping at his father, he took a deep breath. “You made your point,” he said clasping the USB drive in his hand. “That’s confiscated.”

“No,” Kira said, “I want to watch those.”

“We’re so going to watch these videos,” Mason agreed with a determined expression. “Having an invisible boyfriend has its perks.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. Over his dead body. “Try me.”

“Someone is awfully quiet,” Lydia crooned and reached over Liam’s head to pat Theo's hair, completely ignoring the dirty look she received in return.

Jackson barked out a laugh. “I wonder why.”

“It's probably because-“ Stiles physically felt as Liam’s forehead connected with the biology book in front of him. Although he was glad his sentence was interrupted by Theo, he still held a little sympathy for the poor werewolf. After all, he knew full well how it felt when your head was slammed into a steering wheel. He doubted a book was any less painful, especially not with the extra strength the chimera had used.

“Theo,” Stiles said putting his hand over the fingers still having a tight grip on Liam’s hair, “we talked about that, didn’t we?”

“I was thinking about shoving him off the bench first,” Theo admitted glancing almost sheepishly over his shoulder at Stiles. “But then I would’ve hurt Lydia, too.”

Stiles covered his face with his left hand, sighing audibly. He couldn’t believe he assigned himself _twice_ for this kind of bullshit; and it was just as frustrating the second time as it had been the first when he realised that, believe it or not, this was actually progress. Theo still saved his own skin through violence but at least he chose the way which hurt the least people. “Next time just cover his mouth or something,” Stiles said messaging his temple, “and try not to break his nose on his school books. We’ll never get the blood out of the papers.”

"I haven't broken his nose," Theo replied letting go of Liam. "I aimed for the forehead."

"Terrific."

Liam gave a small whine. Mason tried not to laugh.

“Oh, you’re still here!” Isaac suddenly burst through the patio door, dressed in his waiter clothes – but his face was contorted into an expression no waiter should ever wear. “I want to file a restraining order, and you-“ He yanked Liam off the bench, who yelped as he almost lost his footing- “You are going to _pay_.”

“What did _I_ do?” Liam asked, completely confused and overwhelmed by why suddenly Theo _and_ Isaac were out to get him.

Isaac jabbed a finger against his chest, and Stiles had to admit that he definitively looked a little terrifying seeing how he towered over the other werewolf. “That weird chick you wanted to bone, she’s not leaving me alone.”

“Slow down, Isaac.” Jordan grabbed his brother by the upper arm and pulled him away from Liam, who instantly went to squeeze himself between Corey and Mason – although he flinched at the glare he received from Theo as soon as he had sat down. “You can’t just file a restraining order because she’s at the restaurant you work at.”

Isaac was seething with annoyance. “I don’t care how often she eats somewhere, but she’s not allowed to paw at me all the time! And yes, before you ask, I already told her off _and_ I told the manager. He'd asked her to leave twice and the third time he barred her. Today, she'd bloody lain in wait for me, can you believe that?”

Jackson and Danny exchanged an almost amused glance. But Stiles frowned, and even Jordan didn’t appear to be remotely amused anymore. The grin on his lips yielded a tight line.

“And while that’s already creepy enough she literally caressed my cheek with her finger, _licked it_ and told me she loved a chase,” Isaac explained gesturing wildly; his Cockney accent grew thicker with every word he spoke. “That was fun in the beginning, but now it’s just-“ He made a disgusted face and lowered his hands to cross his arms.  

“Do you know her name?” Jordan asked, placing a calming hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Isaac let out a breath. “No, I don’t know her name. She never introduced herself. But why don’t you ask him?!” He pointed at Liam again. “He was the one who wanted to shag her.”

“She knew you beforehand!” Liam instantly defended himself. “She specifically asked about ‘the British guy you hang out with'. I haven’t told her anything about you.”

“Her name, Liam,” John demanded. His father did not take kindly on any form of sexual harassment; and Jordan did not seem like he should be tangled with right now.

Liam shrugged. “Emma, I think. But I don’t know her last name.”

“Wait,” Mason said pulling out his phone, “I think I have a picture of her.” Isaac stalked to the table to stand beside Lydia while Mason was looking through his phone. “Ah.” He enhanced the picture with his fingers then gave his phone to Isaac.

“Yeah, that’s her. Just that she’s a brunette now.” He was about to give the phone to his brother, when Lydia grabbed his wrist.

“What?” Stiles asked alarmed at the expression on her face.

“Stiles,” she breathed looking up from the picture, “that's the eyewitness.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot is slow, I know, but I kind of felt the need to deal with a few things? For example, exploring some relationships as well as addressing the repercussions of things that had happened in 'A Soul to Take' and the beginning of this story.
> 
> So, I suppose, it's more of a character-driven sequel than anything else. Next chapter, however, is the grande finale. 
> 
> Hope you like it anyway!
> 
> <3

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” Stiles turned away from the French windows in the loft to watch Brett close the door behind him. He wore jeans and a loose muscle tee, that showed of some enviable well-formed arms. Although they had seen each other a couple of times now, Stiles wasn't quite used to see him dressed in anything else than his lacrosse jersey and sweatpants. Brett seemed to live in those clothes.

“Probably,” Stiles agreed shifting on his feet. He didn’t feel good about hoodwinking Theo. But these were desperate times.

A week had passed. Nobody could find an Emma or Patricia matching the picture. Hell, nobody even knew the girl on the picture. She wasn’t missing, nobody was looking for her. It seemed like she didn’t even exist. Everything they had tried lead to nothing. Everything they had done in order to find her had been pointless. Isaac had caught glimpses of her here and there – almost like she wanted to remind them that she was still around – but she had vanished before he could’ve done anything about it. They didn’t have any scent either. She seemed to be nothing more than a shadow, an illusion. There was only one other thing Stiles could think of that might help finding and finally catching her. It was an option Theo had shot down as soon as Stiles had voiced he was considering it.

Brett crossed the room in his usual confident stroll. “I assume your snookums is pissed.” He gestured in the general direction of the floor on which a map of Beacon Hills, two candles, a box of matches and a knife were patiently waiting to be used.

“He doesn’t know,” Stiles replied crouching down.

“You didn’t tell him?”

Stiles crossed his arms over his thighs looking at Brett. He had his reasons for not telling Theo. This whole thing would end in a fight, of course, it would; and everything was going to be fuelled because of his keeping quiet _and_ Brett being here. But Stiles didn’t have the energy to argue over what was right and what was wrong. They could discuss this once Isaac wasn’t in trouble anymore. They probably would discuss this as soon as Theo would get wind of it. Stiles didn’t look forward to that foreseeable future. “No,” he decided to reply eventually.

Brett raised his brows. “Worried he’ll punch walls again?”

“He doesn’t usually do that.”

“ _Oh_.” Brett drawled tapping his forehead once. “He’s only occasionally doing that? My mistake.”

“That’s not what I said,” Stiles replied crossing his arms defensively.

“Duh.”

“ _What_?” His voice was sharper than intended.

Brett made a dismissive gesture and sat down, bending his knees and putting his arms around them. Stiles followed his example, crossing his legs. For a moment it seemed like the topic was over and done with because Brett made a grab for the box of matches. But as he struck one, he shook his head. “I usually don’t say anything,” he said, and Stiles closed his eyes, “or meddle with other people’s relationships-“ He shook the match until the fire went out, then dropped it onto the floor- “but that’s fucked up.”

Stiles crossed his arms, too. “He apologised.”

“You were scared, Stiles,” Brett reminded him, “I wouldn’t have done anything if I hadn’t picked up on the chemo signals.”

Had he really been afraid? He had been surprised, yeah, and somewhat shocked. But- afraid? Maybe. Maybe he had been. He didn’t remember. Stiles hugged his knees to his chest, scanning the area of the map he could see; however, he didn’t really process anything on it. “He was just worried, I guess.”

“Oh my god.” Brett lowered the box of matches rolling his eyes. “Listen, I know Theo’s fucked up in the head, okay? I’m acknowledging that, really, I do.” It was somewhat surprising how involved he seemed. Brett always made the impression that he couldn’t care less about what happened outside of his own pack. “But, fuck me, you can’t wrap him up in cotton wool or, I don’t know, stop telling him about things because you worry he’ll blow up.”

Stiles pursed his lips.

“What?”

“You don’t know-“

“Yeah, no- true,” Brett agreed although he shook his head again, “I can only form an opinion on the things I see or pick up or whatever, and I’m ready to change my opinion if you can give me another good reason as to why you did not tell Theo about what we’re going to do.” He raised his index finger. “Just one that doesn’t involve you dodging a fight.” There wasn’t another reason. Stiles didn’t say anything because Theo would flip his shit. They would argue, they would pick fights, they would snap at each other, all because Theo didn’t like it, and Stiles did it anyway to protect Isaac. Perhaps he would have been less angry if Stiles had told him beforehand. But perhaps he would have managed to talk Stiles out of it – and then what? Waiting until something happened to Isaac? “Stop justifying the shit he does,” Brett continued after a few moments of silence. “I’m not saying he’s always horrible because you made abundantly clear you don’t put up with shit after dropping Scott.” He shook the matchbox, then tossed it to Stiles who caught it awkwardly. “ _But_ I also think you should put him in his place because if I see him pull a stunt like that ever again, I won’t stop at throwing him across the living room.”

Stiles watched Brett’s face. It was odd, really, to see him angry on someone else’s behalf – other than his sister’s at least. For him, the werewolf had always represented everything cool and laidback. But that was before he knew Brett happened to care about, well, him, apparently. They seemed to have become friends without him noticing. Stiles was, to his surprise, thankful for that. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied slowly beckoning Brett over before he lit the candles, so they could sit side by side in front of the map.

“Good.” Brett nudged his lower leg with his knee. “So,” he continued after Stiles had prepared the map as well, “you two are okay?”

Stiles glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but Brett looked straight ahead. “Yeah.” They hadn’t fought or anything, recently. Still, Theo appeared to be irked because Stiles wouldn’t go past first base anymore although they had slept with each other while in this body. He didn’t push him or showed his annoyance outright, but Stiles picked up on the way his lips twitched when he tried not to frown or how he nodded always a little too understanding when their make-out session was cut short with some hasty excuse. It was probably stupid since Theo loved him. But he’s not feeling particularly confident in his body, which was mostly due to his lack of knowledge about Theo’s former lovers or affairs or flings. He could ask, of course, yet he didn’t feel like bringing this up. Stiles had no history whatsoever, and witnessing the experience Theo possessed with both sexes didn’t exactly help at all. In fact, it scared the crap out of him considering that he had never thought about Theo maybe having a preference – and what if it wasn't guys? What if he remembered he liked girls a bunch more? Of course, Stiles should remind himself that Theo displayed he actually cared for him. But the little insecure child in his mind didn’t stop talking.

“Good.” Brett pulled Stiles out of his thoughts, and he looked at him in mild confusion until he remembered what they had talked about. “It’s just, you know, I’m aware how much it sucks when the only people you can talk to are members of your pack.” Brett almost sounded a little too casual for what he was implying, almost like he didn’t care whether Stiles agreed and instead just wanted to get these words out into the world. “It must be harder for you since you're juggling being a friend, an alpha and a boyfriend at the same time.” He stopped, cocked his head and shrugged to pointedly take away more of the fact that he did care. “I don’t want to sound nosy but- you can talk to me, if you like.”

Stiles scrutinised his profile for a few moments. A small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks,” he said, and he meant it although he doubted he would ever take advantage of this offer. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Great.” Brett grinned at him but didn't really grin at him. It was a very weird expression. Stiles couldn’t tell if he was relieved that Stiles didn’t immediately take him up on his offer or if he regretted ever making it. “Also,” he added, and suddenly the cocky attitude Stiles had grown used to snapped back into place, “I’m very good at giving comfort or-“ He nudged Stiles’ shoulder with a sly grin- “taking your mind off of things.”

Stiles snorted. “Uhuu.”

“I feel like you’re not taking me serious.”

Stiles, honestly, did not harbour a single doubt about Brett being good at sex and anything that went along with it. He definitively had that kind of vibe to him. But then again, could you even determine something like that? “Well,” Stiles replied eventually opting for the safest approach, “since I’m in a relationship-“

“ _Right_ ,” Brett said rolling his eyes a little too exaggeratedly for Stiles' liking. It somehow made the gesture look less like a joke. “Now then-“ Brett rubbed his hands together, startling Stiles by talking so loudly- “What do you need me for?”

Stiles rolled up the leg of his jeans. Lydia had, with good reason although that didn’t exactly make it better to be honest, gone on a shopping spree for him. Her argument had been that Stiles needed other clothes than hoodies and yoga pants. She had come home with everyday clothes as well as two pairs of shoes, and she made him wear them. The time he had spent in this body as well as wearing these clothes slowly started to drive him insane. He looked like a normal girl, and Stiles did not want to look like a normal girl. He wanted to have his body back, for fucks sake. Although, of course, avoiding wearing clothes which fit him now wouldn’t exactly change the duration of the spell.

“I need you to think about our alleged witness,” Stiles explained cutting the skin just above his ankle – he really did not need to throw in his pack's face that he intended to use blood magic – and smeared the blood onto the outer edge of the map; the part he would light up. “Everything you can remember. Her voice, her face, her scent.”

Brett pressed two fingers underneath the cut to take the barely existent pain. It seemed almost like an afterthought. “Why me?” He asked, watching the small cut fade away as the little magic his dormant void left Stiles crackled to life at the touch. “Lydia and Isaac have seen her, too.”

“Well, my whole pack decided against me using blood magic after I turned myself into a girl.”

“Huh.” Brett traced Stiles’ ankle, somewhat deep in thought, then pulled his hand back suddenly and draped his arms over his legs again. “It’s not like you cut off a limb or something.”

“That’s what I told them.”

“Bunch of wimps,” Brett announced, and Stiles laughed at the shit-eating grin on his lips; although it was more relief than amusement. Not that he was in the position to judge Brett’s behaviour – he didn’t know him well enough for that – but he finally felt like himself once more. “You know what you’re doing, right?” Brett asked a moment later looking at least the tiniest bit concerned.

“Hundred percent,” Stiles reassured him, and, regarding this particular spell at least, it was the truth. The tracking spell was the one and only thing he had managed to succeed in from the very beginning. But it wasn’t too complicated and had a lot less variables than any other spell. All you needed was a map, a candle, blood and a memory or picture of the person you were looking for. Since the only picture they had of her featured other people, Stiles couldn’t use it. That’s why he resorted to memories. “Okay, give me your hand and think. Tell me, if you can remember her clearly.”

Brett glanced at him for a moment, then closed his eyes before grabbing Stiles’ hand. Silence fell over them. It took quite some time – long enough for Stiles to wonder if Brett could even conjure up a proper memory of her – until the werewolf nodded.

Without letting go of his hand, Stiles grabbed the map and held the bloody edge into the small flame until it caught fire. He could feel the heat where he had cut himself, almost like it was he who burned. The fire spread in his veins as it spread on the map. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, but he knew nothing was really happening to him. It was just the magic’s echo, nothing else. As the fire dimmed and then, all of the sudden, went out, so did the feeling in his body.

Stiles let go of Brett’s hand.

“I’m not good at manual navigating,” the werewolf announced, then cleared his throat, “but I thought you’d need a map to do so.”

Stiles had a hard time from keeping himself calm instead of just kicking over the candles to set this whole fucking place on fire.

 

“Well, that was a fuckup.” Brett slumped down on the bleachers next to Stiles. His hair was damp, and he wore sweatpants again.

“If you’re talking about this practice, I’ll have to agree whole-heartedly,” Danny muttered shaking his head.

Stiles let out a breath. If someone had told him at any point during his life that he would attend Liam and Corey’s lacrosse practise with Danny and Jackson, he would have laughed in their faces. But here he was, one late afternoon on a Thursday, and suffered together with people who hadn't thought about giving him the time of day only two years ago. To be fair, it was kind of funny to see Jackson squirm and wince at the Cyclone’s horrible performance. But as a former member, even if he had been sitting on the bench most of the time, he had trouble watching this with a straight face, too.

“I was actually talking about-“ Brett began but stopped as Stiles nudged him with his knee. Danny, curious about the sudden silence, turned to look at him. “My own practice,” he continued then obviously catching up on the message. “Our goalie wasn't at his best today.” As Danny looked back to the pitch, Brett raised a brow. Stiles shrugged. _Right_. He’d only told him that Theo wasn’t in the know about his little experiment when in truth nobody knew about their meeting.

“He sure as hell wasn't as terrible as Corey,” Jackson muttered, but his words were muffled by his hands covering his face. He’d resorted to occasionally glancing at the terror unfolding in front of him through his fingers.

Neither Corey, who’d managed to catch a whooping amount of zero shots, nor Liam were exactly covering themselves in glory. The latter managed to trip over his own feet twice. Even Brett winced as Liam upped the number to three by falling onto his ass trying to defend an attack.

Coach’s whistle was about to give Stiles a tinnitus.

“Why the hell would Scott name him captain?” Jackson asked as the team walked to their bags and drinks for the break.

Stiles scrunched up his face. “He’s not usually this bad.”

“- you suck less when your girlfriend sucks more!” The voice caught Stiles’ attention, and he looked over in the direction it came from to see Liam, his shoulders pulled up and his head down, trudging towards them. Corey followed him clutching his goalie stick in his hands. The guy verbally attacking Liam wasn’t a blank page when it came down to causing trouble or throwing insults. “Oh, that’s right,” he yelled after him, “you don’t have one anymore!” Two of his friend’s cackled. The third did as well, although somewhat hesitantly.

Liam threw his stick, gloves and helmet at Danny and Stiles’ feet.

“Who is that guy?” Jackson asked narrowing his eyes slightly. It was unclear if it was because of the insult casted at Liam or his general behaviour. Stiles wanted the first to be true, but he couldn’t quite tell how close Jackson and Liam were. They certainly shared their passion for lacrosse. Other than that, however, they hadn’t much in common; and they weren’t pack. Yet. Stiles wondered if they ever needed to have this particular conversation or if, by some miracle, they could skip it and just accept their co-existence without ever having to specify it.

“Gabe,” Corey whispered like he was worried said guy would hear him. For a supernatural creature, he continued to be a scaredy-cat. But that was probably better than having to deal with another reckless idiot. Stiles had his hands full with himself, Theo, Liam and Mason. He needed more people like Kira in his pack. Perhaps they were quickly worried and hesitated before acting, but at least they wouldn’t do something stupid all of the sudden.

“He’s basically you,” Stiles added propping his chin on his hand, “just with less money, less influence and Brazilian roots.”

“And half as attractive.”

“Well, _that_ ’s arguable,” Danny disagreed.

Liam stared at him in horror. “He’s an asshole!”

“He doesn’t have to be nice if he knows how to fuck.”

Stiles stifled a groan as the younger turned to him. Brett didn’t even try to hide his utter amusement at Liam’s discomfort. “ _Do_ something!” He ordered gesturing in Danny’s general direction. Even if he could tell him anything, Stiles sure as hell wouldn’t.

Jackson tossed Liam his water bottle. “You’re a 16-year-old teenager who had a girlfriend and has a gay best friend, I’m pretty sure you know how sex works,” he said obviously ignoring how Corey somewhat uncomfortably shifted his weight and Liam looked like talking about sex with the best friend was something only insane people did, “So, don’t be such a goddamn prude.” His attention, however, was quickly caught by Finstock walking down the side line of the lacrosse pitch, muttering to himself. Jackson clapped Danny’s thigh. “Come on, let’s talk to him.” Apparently, the two of them had set their mind on becoming assistant coaches after learning the terrible state the current team was in. It gave them something to do until they started their semester at McGeorge and UC Davis in Sacramento coming August, where they continued the studies they had started in London.  

Stiles picked Liam’s stick up from the ground. “What’s wrong?” He asked after Jackson and Danny had left. “You play terrible.”

Liam squirmed and prolonged the act of drinking from his bottle. Corey glanced at his captain, then Stiles and away. The guy who could turn invisible was the least subtle person Stiles had ever met; and he was friends with Mason and Liam, so, that meant something. Corey obviously knew what was going on. Stiles was pretty sure he could pressure the chimera into telling him even without using his alpha voice, which he apparently possessed. Theo had dubbed it, but Stiles wasn't quite sure how it sounded.

“I thought Brett was running drills with you,” Stiles added after a moment of silence.

“Do not pin his incompetence on me,” Brett warned nudging Stiles’ leg with his knee. “Even I can only do so much.”

“Even I can only do so much,” Liam mimicked pissed off. “Someone’s going to shove your ass off your high horse, you prick.” With unnecessary werewolf strength, he threw the water bottle at Brett.

“What the hell-?”

“Fuck you, Talbot!” Liam yelled, capturing the attention of those around them.

While Stiles was aware that their relationship couldn't be described as loving and caring, he always had the impression that Brett and Liam were on their way to become hesitant friends, or at the very least acquaintances who respected each other. Also, Brett was a haughty jackass ninety percent of his life, but he meant well. So, Liam’s reaction almost seemed a little over the top.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Brett seemed to agree with that.

“You’re an asshole!” Liam snatched the lacrosse stick out of Stiles’ hands. “I don’t know why you hang out with him.”

Stiles frowned. “He’s an asshole all the time,” he reminded him then crossing his arms. “And you're not really bothered I’m spending time with him, are you?”

Liam pressed his lips into a thin line. This was going fantastic. His boyfriend was keeping his nightmares from him, his dad hadn’t said anything about what he was thinking about Stiles and Theo’s relationship other than his cryptic _everything will come out eventually_ bullshit – which didn’t exactly help on any kind of scale, let’s be real here – and now Liam’s behaving like a butthurt child. Yes, he was aware of his moody, pubescent demeanour, but enough was enough. He was _so_ done with people not talking to him.

“ _Liam._ ”

The werewolf looked at something over his shoulder as if it were the most exciting game of lacrosse he’d ever watched.

Corey busied himself with his smartphone, probably texting Mason who spent his afternoon helping Theo with his econ homework; unless the chimera had torn it into pieces – out of all his classes, econ was the only one in which he only scraped by, and only if he sat his ass down and actually studied for it.

Brett rolled his eyes.

Stiles was seconds away from punching Liam. God, he needed to get rid of this fucking aggression; because Theo had been wrong. Not using blood magic did heighten his emotions, yes, but it seemingly only focused on his anger. It basically turned him into a trimmed down version of an IED. He could control it most of the time, but he didn’t exactly feel good about the thoughts and urges in hindsight. He doubted his use of blood magic barely three hours ago would help his overall emotional state. _But_ that was a problem for later. Now, he needed to deal with Liam, and Stiles wouldn’t let him get away with this behaviour. _Be the alpha_. _Make him talk_. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he ordered in a low voice. Whether it was his alpha voice or not – seriously, he needed to talk to Theo about that – the younger seemed affected.

“I’m killing Isaac.” Liam’s words were rushed, and he was still not looking at Stiles. “And before that I risked Lori's life.” Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles noticed Brett narrowing his eyes. Someone’s still not over that, it seemed. “And I should have stopped Mason from even bringing the Ouija board along. But I didn’t, and now I’m killing Isaac,” he repeated breathlessly, then pressed his lips into a thin line.

Stiles blinked. “ _What_?”

“I put Isaac in this situation. It’s my fault she’s stalking him.”

“Liam, she had known about Isaac beforehand, you do remember that, don’t you?” Brett reminded him with a raised brow.

“But I told her his name!” Liam whisper shouted, his eyes wide and round as he _finally_ looked at Stiles. “I told him where he’s working!”

“She would’ve found out anyway,” Stiles explained calmly. Maybe Liam’s readiness to tell her had made it easier for her, but eventually she would’ve figured out everything she needed on her own. “As for the rest, remember what you said to me on the balcony? When I was still thinking about leaving?” Liam nodded, hesitantly. “Everybody makes mistakes. That’s goes for you, as well. Stand up for them, accept you fucked up, apologise for it and don’t repeat it.” Stiles nudged Liam’s leg with his foot, grinning. “But don’t ask Mason to make his apology-muffins.” He shuddered at the memory, and even Liam pulled a face. As Mason had come to apologise for the Pasadena incident, he had brought muffins. What had been an amazing idea, had turned out to be a little disaster. But Stiles hadn’t had the heart to tell Mason that the muffins had tasted like nothing but pure sugar.

Liam laughed quietly. “But Isaac-“

“- feels horrible for how he treated you,” Stiles told him with a small smile. “You know how he is. He’s too awkward to make a proper apology. But I guess if you tell him about Gabe, he’ll punch him in the face for you.”

Liam snorted.

“Next time, talk to me, okay?”

“Your mood scared me,” Liam confessed so quiet that Stiles almost didn’t hear him.

Fair enough. Stiles hadn’t exactly been easy to handle the past week, which was not only due to his heightened anger. On top of that was the whole stagnation of the case. Stiles was furious that they couldn’t fucking find her as well as them being unable to figure out what the hell this chic was. Even _if_ they had found her with the tracking spell, charging in without any information would be suicide. Additionally, Isaac grew more and more restless and agitated because he wasn’t allowed to leave the house without Kira, Lydia or Stiles accompanying him. Then there’s the whole thing with Theo; the nightmare he was keeping from him and the fact that Stiles’ insecurity about this body stopped them from being intimate – and the repercussions of Tara which had resulted in Stiles’ turning to blood magic in the first place. It was a lot to take in all at once. He hadn’t noticed that he’d taken it out on his pack enough for Liam to feel like he couldn’t come to him anymore.  

“I’m sorry.” Stiles offered him a smile. “Now, get your shit and do your worst.”

Liam nodded with a grin. He gathered his things. Suddenly excited again, he grabbed Corey by the upper arm, who let out a surprised gasped, and pulled him back to the pitch.

Brett shook his head chuckling quietly. “Look at you being a responsible, charming alpha.” He dropped the water bottle between them, grinning at Stiles.

“Oh, shush.”

 

They were lying in bed watching a terrible horror movie – Harry Potter should’ve stayed Harry Potter; this film was an insult to the genre – when Theo suddenly paused it and turned around to look at Stiles. “What did you do?”

“What?”

“You reek of guilt,” Theo explained sitting up. “Brett’s scent is also clinging to you.”

“He was at Liam’s lacrosse practice.”

“Why was he there?”

“Because we’re friends. Because he just wanted to see if the drills he’s doing with Liam actually help him.” Stiles ran his hands over his face and sat up as well. “How about you just trust me instead of assuming the worst?”

“I do trust _you_ ,” Theo insisted turning to look at him. “It’s the others-“

“Well,” Stiles interrupted pulling his hand away as Theo attempted to grab it, “it needs two to cheat. You either trust me or you don’t.”

Theo narrowed his eyes. “Why do you reek of guilt then?

Stiles stubbornly stared at the laptop positioned on the desk. Fantastic. He actually hadn’t intended to tell Theo anything about what he had done this afternoon; especially since it hadn’t even worked. If he had found out anything, then, at least, he had some form of argument. But without any helpful outcome, it seemed like he had simply broken the promise he had given Theo. What he had done was completely fucking pointless. If his body had already betrayed him, however, keeping the truth was out of the question – and he wasn’t going to lie to him. He had to bite the bullet. “I met with Brett at the loft-“ Theo inhaled sharply, and Stiles hurried to continue, his words almost tumbling over each other as he tried to put the out there before Theo could form any kind of opinion- “because I needed someone who remembered Emma or Patricia or whatever her name is to track her down.”

Theo looked positively stunned for a few seconds. It seemed like he was trying to figure out _what_ exactly pissed him off more. There wasn’t much else Stiles could do than to wait for the inevitable. “Let me get this straight-“ Theo pressed two fingers against his temple; his voice was a little too quiet for Stiles’ liking- “First of all, you promised me not to use blood magic again. Now you’re telling me you did it anyway?” Stiles opened his mouth, but Theo shot him down with a single look. “And, on top of all, you did it with Brett Talbot? He isn’t even part of-“

“I’m sorry, okay?” Stiles blurted out suddenly. “It’s just- I can’t-“ He didn’t want to put his problems on the pack, especially not the ones that weren’t their business. He was the alpha, he’d sort it out eventually. But he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Isaac’s in danger, and I can’t sit around doing nothing-“ He grabbed Theo’s hands, who huffed out a breath but thankfully did not pull away from the touch- “I can’t wait for something to happen until we have a lead.” Telling the truth loosened something in him, and for the first time in a while, he couldn’t stop himself from talking about what was really going on in his mind since Tara. “I still have no idea what that chic really is, and without that information, I can’t get rid of her… I- I can’t protect him- I mean, I can’t even protect myself. I still have no idea what I can and can’t do, I got a concussion on our first case, and then I’ve been possessed by your sister after I allowed you to fuck around with the Ouija board because I underestimated its dangers, although I’ve given Liam shit for playing Bloody Mary.” He rambled. He knew he did, but he couldn’t stop. The words just wouldn’t stop. “And then there’s the whole thing with you. I want to give you space, and I’m trying to juggle this whole alpha slash boyfriend thing, and I don’t know when to push you to talk and when to let you be your moody self.” Theo chuckled quietly, but he let him continue. “Like, I know you’re having nightmares about something and I want to know what they’re about, but you won’t tell me.” Theo opened his mouth this time, but Stiles didn’t give him a chance to speak. “And then there’s this whole intimacy thing. I know you want to- and I want to, but I can’t. Not in this body, and I know I’m hurting you when I push you away all the time- but I- I don’t… I can’t and I’m sorry.”

Theo was silent for a while, and Stiles couldn’t quite tell what his reaction might be. After the talk with Brett earlier this afternoon, he almost expected Theo to snap at him. To his surprise, and additional guilt, he didn’t.  “Come on.” Gently, Theo tugged at his hand. Stiles scrambled over to him until he sat on Theo's thighs, fingers fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. “First of all,” he said began wrapping his arms loosely around Stiles' waist, “yeah, I’m a little annoyed that we haven’t had sex for a while, but you still should’ve told me.” It wasn’t the topic Stiles had expected him to begin with, but maybe Theo considered clearing the things between them more important than the rest of the list.

“It’s stupid,” Stiles mumbled biting the corner of his lip.

“Is it?” Theo asked with a frown. “Is it really? I mean, I don’t care and I don’t have a single clue why you would-“ He stopped, squinting at his own words. For a guy visiting a therapist three times a week, Theo was astonishingly bad at comforting. Then again, he was visiting Morrell for a reason. “ _But_ ,” he continued then ignoring Stiles raising his brows, “You do, so that’s whatever.”

“Whatever?” Stiles deadpanned.

Theo furrowed his brows. “The sex is whatever. I mean-“ A groan escaped his lips, and he obviously struggled for a way to express his thoughts. “I’d rather have no sex at all than making you feel uncomfortable.” He snapped his fingers. Stiles couldn’t stop himself from laughing quietly at that. Theo was hopeless, but at the very least he tried. “As for you being a shitty alpha-“

“Hey, I did _not_ say that!” Stiles exclaimed giving Theo’s shoulders a indignant push.

“No?” Theo asked in mock-confusion. “Then I misinterpreted your ‘ _I can’t protect anyone, and I generally suck at life'_ comment.” Stiles slapped Theo's hand away, who poked his side while paraphrasing. “Excuse me, I’m bad at emotions.”

“No shit,” Stiles muttered under his breath.

Theo yanked him down by the back of his neck. “I heard you, Stilinski.” With a smirk, he rolled them around and pinned him to the mattress. “As I was saying,” Theo began again, and his smirk turned into a serious expression, “you’re not a bad alpha. You're just learning, and you’re already better than me.”

“That’s not exactly a feat to accomplish.”

“You’re an idiot of a boyfriend, however,” Theo continued without acknowledging the jab at his own time at being a makeshift alpha. Stiles pursed his lips anyway. “I’m always pestering you until you talk to me. You tried once and walked away.” Theo was right in this regard. Although he would bend back over backwards to avoid a discussion when it came down to the little things, he never wimped out of a confrontation when he deemed it a necessity; something Stiles had done a couple of times by now.

He licked his lips looking up at the chimera. “What are your nightmares about?”

Theo sat back on his heels contemplating him for a few moments in silence. “My sister making me hurt you, mostly.” It wasn’t that surprising, to be fair; especially not after what had happened in Pasadena. “My most recent dreams were a little different.” Stiles propped himself onto his elbows blowing an irritating strand of hair out of his face. Although Theo basically ordered him to push him into talking, he waited quietly for him to continue. “I didn’t understand them at first.” His hands, which were pressed to his own thighs, slowly moved up Stiles’ legs and thighs until they rested around his navel, circling it in, warm palms flat against his skin. “You get hurt by my sister. She mentions every time that I am not allowed to have what I took from her. Then your dad tells me that I have to make a choice because only one can survive. I chose you. I always do, and then I wake up.” Theo was silent for a few moments, not looking at him but his hands. His eyes followed the index finger of his left hand, which drew small circles onto the fabric of Stiles’ shirt. “That’s the gist of it.”

“So,” Stiles began slowly and quietly, because Theo still seemed deep in thought, “you- you kill yourself every night?”

“What?” Theo’s eyes snapped up suddenly, and it took him a few seconds until he was able to focus on the here and now again.

“You said, you have to make a choice,” Stiles explained reaching up to cup Theo’s neck with both hands. “That only one of us can survive.”

For a moment, Theo didn’t seem to understand what Stiles had said. “Oh,” he uttered then. With a small smile, he kissed Stiles' forehead as he furrowed his brows. His lips lingered there for a moment. “Don’t worry about it.” Theo settled over him, forearms propped around his head, so he could easily run his fingers through the brown curls. Stiles loved when Theo behaved like this. It was a side barely anyone knew about, but that was a very distinct streak of his. When they were alone, he looked for as much body contact as possible. He definitively was the more affectionate one; both in public as well as in intimate togetherness. Stiles never quite grasped how this could be when everything else about Theo was abrasive and cold and broken. But he also tended to become overly cuddly, when he intended to get Stiles’ mind off things – or he would try to sex him up which worked even less.

When it came down to worrying, Stiles’ brain was pretty persistent.

“Did you talk to Morrell about it?” He asked running his thumbs along Theo’s jaw.

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

Theo huffed out a breath. “Psychological bullshit,” he replied after a moment of silence.

“And that would be?” Stiles flicked his forehead affectionately.

“I don’t remember, actually,” he said pressing his lips to Stiles’ neck just underneath his jaw. “I only listen to her when it seems important.”

Stiles pushed him off. “Seriously?” He asked getting to his feet again. “The one time you go for a lie, it’s this pathetic.” Glancing over his shoulder, he crossed the room to snatch the tee he’d lent from Theo to sleep in – well, not so much borrowed as kind of stolen because he didn’t really intend to give it back.

Theo propped himself up on his elbows to watch him. “She said something about fear of loss with a bit of fears for the future sprinkled on top.”

“If you’re not taking it seriously,” Stiles said fumbling with the clasp of the bra – he hated it, by the way, but Lydia had told him he needed one; he believed she just loved hearing him complain about it – somewhat pissed about the nonchalant way his boyfriend reacted to the therapy, “I don’t know why you’re still going. It’s not like I force you or anything.” Then again, they both knew Stiles would be tremendously displeased if Theo ended it before Morrell dismissed him.

“You’re not paying her either,” Theo reminded him grinning sheepishly as Stiles glared at him a second time. “I think she finds me interesting.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, every psychiatrist on this planet would have a field day with someone like you – oh, for fucks sake.”

“Do you need help with that?”

“No, I’m good.” He wasn’t, and Theo had already rolled out of bed and sauntered over to him. “Stop grinning, jackass.”

But Theo, of fucking course, did not stop. He wrapped his arms around Stiles grinning infuriatingly and pressed his lips against his ear. “I love you, too, babe,” he whispered dragging his nails up Stiles’ spine, and any response was straight up kissed from his lips. “Not gonna lie.” Theo flicked the clasp open easily while barely moving away to speak. “I could get used to being taller than you.” As he attempted to kiss him again, Stiles pinched his side in retaliation. He would never ever get tired of Theo being ticklish. “I helped you, and this is how you thank me?”

Stiles scoffed. “Such a life and death situation.” He pinched Theo again, who stepped back with a scowl.

“It’s the little things that count.”

“Uh-huh,” Stiles drawled flinging the bra on the desk chair. It was kind of freeing, he had to be honest. “Can you, like-“ He made a spinning motion with his index finger.

Theo raised his brows. “I’ve seen you naked, you know. But-“ He leaned down to kiss him again before Stiles could even open his mouth- “how about you come to bed in just your slip?”

“ _Theo_ -“

“That’s not what I meant.” He turned away and went to his nightstand. With his grin returning, he opened the drawer and rummaged through it until he pulled out a small bottle of massage oil. “I promised you weeks ago.” True. Theo had talked about it after Stiles had started stressing out because of the move. Aside from worrying, he was fantastic at being stressed. He was also kind of undeserving after breaking a promise and trying to keep it a secret. “No sex. Unless you change your mind, of course.” It should be prohibited to look this innocent while being a complete jerk, but Theo somehow always looked like he could be introduced to everybody’s grandmother while being considerably nasty.

“I'd- I’d rather just sleep,” Stiles announced crossing and increasing his arms.

Theo let out a groan and slumped onto his back.

Stiles pulled the phone out of the pocket of his jeans and checked his text messages. He’d received one from Brett five minutes ago. _Try again tomorrow?_   _;)_ After what they had talked about at the loft, Stiles had expected a quip about Theo’s behaviour. He quickly answered that they should focus on figuring out what she was first, then he dropped the phone on the desk. Stiles glanced at Theo, who lied unmoving on the blankets, legs dangling over the edge, and bit the inside of his cheek. Then he shook his head and slipped out of his clothes. When he had slipped into the tee, Theo was watching him again. “What?”

“I’m trying to figure out who you look like.”

“I- what?” Stiles felt cold all of the sudden. Who he looked like? Did he resemble a girl he had met before? A girl he had _fucked_ before? Was that why he didn’t mind this body? Could he maybe stop freaking out? It’s not like Theo had any kind of normal relationship before him. But he had sex before. Holy crap, how was he _not_ over the top jealous when this little sentence managed to freak him the fuck out.

Theo nodded, either not noticing Stiles’ horror or ignoring it. “You’re still you,” he said cocking his head to the left. “Same hair, amber eyes and obscene lips. Not to forget the terrible character.” Stiles put his hand on his hips with a raised brow. Nevertheless, his stomach unknotted. “As a guy, I could see your dad in you. But now-“ He squinted at him, and Stiles crossed his arms almost defensively while being this closely scrutinised- “You don’t look like your mother, not really, at least from what I remember.” Theo had seen his mother twice after she had picked them up from Little League on the days she had been fit enough to do so. She had gone with them for ice cream, if his memory didn’t deceive him. It’s a miracle Theo could remember her at all.

Stiles relaxed. “Dad said I look like Nan when she'd been a teenager, just with brown hair.” He absentmindedly ran his fingers through the fringe, ruffling it before pushing it out of his face again. “I guess that’s what I got from my mom.” He hadn’t inherited much from his mother – other than the void, of course, and his sarcastic and snarky side or his curiosity. Well, maybe he had gotten more from his mother than he’d noticed before. It’s hard to determine. He barely remembered her when she had been healthy, but his father then and again commented on Stiles acting like his late wife. “Weird, isn’t it?” He caught his reflection in the window. “I wonder if my kids will look like Mom or Dad.” As he looked over at Theo again, he noticed an oddly blank stare on his features; like he had slipped on a mask or something. He usually didn’t do that, not in front of Stiles at least.

“Hm,” Theo commented simply.

Stiles raised a brow. “Well, I mean- you do know it’s anatomically impossible for us to have children, right?”

Theo pulled his lips into a tight line but only for a second. As Stiles narrowed his eyes, his expression had already corrected itself. “Is it?” He asked pushing himself to his feet. “Not that I’ve given it much thought.” Which meant that he had mulled it over at least two times already. What in the- _what_? It was the first time this thought had made an appearance in Stiles' mind. Theo and him having children sounded absurd. At least in their current position with one of them broken and the other covered in cracks – and then there was this curse Stiles would impose on his biological children. “But-“ Theo pulled him out of his thoughts, and he startled as he placed a hand on his stomach again- “if the topic ever came up, this could work, couldn’t it?”

Stiles was too puzzled to react at first. Theo was serious about this. He had been thinking about kids? When the fuck had that sprung on him? Theo had been flipping his shit as he’d found out that Stiles had accidentally turned himself into a girl, and now he’s like- _what_? “Since when are you thinking about us having children?” He sounded a lot more confused than shocked which was surprising in itself.

“Not _now_ , idiot,” Theo muttered enveloping him in an embrace and pointedly avoiding the question. “Stop freaking out.” Stiles pushed his arms underneath Theo’s and placed his hands on his shoulder blades. “I think, the first time it came to mind was when we drove home from Pasadena.” So, before Stiles had happened to change his gender. “The thought just came up.” He ran his fingers along his spine.

Stiles leaned his head back to squint up at Theo. “And I have to suffer through labour? Thanks a lot.”

“Well, you’re making a good girl,” Theo pointed out. _Typical_. “And I can take your pain.” Stiles pursed his lips, then pushed his boyfriend away who began to cackle quietly. “That’s two to zero, babe.” He barked out a laugh as he was shoved back on the bed, but he managed to grab Stiles’ hands before he could retaliate by tickling him. “No counterargument?” He mocked. “No? You gonna be the _mum_?” Stiles dug his knees into Theo’s sides at his terrible Cockney accent.

“Your head is a dark and twisted place, Theo Raeken, until one finds the rainbows and unicorns hidden inside the cupboards.”

Theo raised his brows. “You’re dark and twisted.” He released Stiles' hands, who placed them on his chest.

“I reckon Dad would love a grandchild that’s blood related,” Stiles agreed tracing Theo’s ribs absentmindedly looking anywhere but his face. “But what if I told you I don’t want to have, like, children with my DNA?”

“Because of the void?”

Stiles nodded pressing his lips into a thin line. This was supposed to be a little fun discussion. Neither of them weere going to have children anytime soon, it’s not like they needed to discuss this. Then again, their relationship had advanced and taken roots. They would have to talk about it eventually.

Theo grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up. “Then we adopt some.” It was surprising that Theo didn’t seem to consider having a surrogate mother. He didn’t have to worry about painting a giant target onto his biological kids’ back.

“You really want children?”

“Yeah.”

“I never thought you were the type,” Stiles confessed trying to keep the fond smile from his lips but failed miserably.

Theo scoffed. “Because of my homicidal tendencies?” He placed a hand on Stiles' shoulder and rolled them around. “I’ll have No. 1 Dad mugs like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Maybe you should tell Morrell about it,” Stiles suggested chuckling. “She'd never tell you you’re having fears for the future ever again.”

“What?”

The smile slipped from his features. “You told me about-“ He stopped, squinting up at Theo- “Did you lie to me?”

“What?” Theo repeated, but he kept glancing to his left and bit the inside of his bottom lip. It was incredible how easy he was readable although he had been a formidable manipulator – and probably still would be if he tried it with others. But the lies never really seemed to fit between the two of them. So, he was kind of surprise this slipped past his attention.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “What did you lie about?” He demanded sitting up. “The diagnosis or the dream?”

Theo flopped onto his back next to Stiles. A sigh fell from his lips as he crossed his arms over his eyes. “I lied about the diagnosis and omitted a certain truth about my nightmare.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“The part about fears of loss is true,” Theo admitted quietly and unmoving. His lips curled into a tight line for a second, then they parted for another small sigh. “And concerning my nightmare. You interpreted that I had to chose between us.” He bit his bottom lip obviously hesitating again, but this time Stiles wouldn’t let him get away. However, as Theo moved his arms to grab his hand, it didn’t seem like he had to push much. “I didn’t, obviously but I just went with it because I wasn’t sure how to tell you after you confessed to feeling uncomfortable as a girl.” He started drawing small circles onto the back of Stiles’ hand. “My sister hurt you, and you were rushed to the hospital. When I arrive, I’m faced with the choice of either saving you or- or-“

Something suddenly clicked together. Their whole conversation about children. The way Theo put his hand on his stomach. “Or our unborn child.”

“I always think that I could- I mean-“ Theo hesitated, and he only continued talking after he had sat up with his back to Stiles. “I always chose you because we can try again, we can have another child, but if I choose differently- I’d lose you forever.”

Although Stiles was aware of how much Theo cared for him – after all, they had said the three magic words a couple days ago, and it had been pretty obvious after what had happened in Pasadena – hearing things like this was painful. He hated that Theo loving him, which should be a good thing, gave him so much heartache. “Hey.” Stiles scooted closer and wrapped his arms around Theo’s waist propping his head onto his shoulder. “That’s not unusual, you know?” He pressed a kiss to his jaw. “A lot of husbands have made this decision- or would make the decision if they’d been asked.”

Theo put his hand over Stiles’. “I fucking hate this.”

After nuzzling his jaw for a moment, Stiles clambered around until he sat on Theo’s lap again. Although he had pulled away from him, Stiles was aware that he needed this body contact now; and as soon as he’d positioned himself  Theo curled his arms tightly around his waist and burrowed his face in the crook of Stiles' neck. “From now on, I want to know about every nightmare you have, no matter how weird. You can’t carry this shit around alone.”

An affirmation ghosted over his neck. For a second, Theo tightened his grip on him enough that it bordered on being unpleasant. Then he released his hold and went back to running his fingertips up and down Stiles’ spine. “If you promise me to tell me what's going on in your head.” It wasn’t exactly a request. But Stiles hadn't simply _asked_ for Theo to open up either. “I thought I did something wrong,” he admitted, his lips followed an invisible trail up Stiles’ neck until they reached the spot just behind his ear. “If I had known you were insecure, I would’ve done something about it.”

“I don’t think you could’ve done anything,” Stiles confessed quietly closing his eyes to savour the little kisses pressed to his skin.

Theo hummed. “I can be pretty convincing, you should know that.” He ran his fingernails up Stiles' naked spine, stopping somewhere between his shoulder blades. “I’d told you how much I like the way you talk with your hands or how your whole face lights up when you laugh.” Theo pulled back to look at him while his hand slowly wandered down his spine again until it rested on the small of his back. “I’d probably mentioned how you drive me insane with your oral fixation. Don’t even deny it, even Liam complaint about it. Seeing you eat a yoghurt can be infuriating.” Theo’s other hand slowly crept to Stiles’ stomach, scratching carefully just underneath his navel. “Perhaps I might have confessed how your scent is my anchor. When I wake from a nightmare, it’s enough for me to breathe you in.” Stiles swallowed around a lump in his throat, and he shuddered as Theo’s hand crept slower. But he grabbed his wrist to stop it just before his fingertips could slip underneath the fabric. “Or I’d bring up how adorable you are when you’re embarrassed about basically any sound you make during sex.”

Stiles huffed out a breath. “I’m not adorable.”

“Or,” Theo continued unfazed by the interruption, “how fucking stunning you look when you’ve finally gotten out of your head; either during sex or when we watch a movie and you’re completely relaxed.” Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. His grip on Theo’s wrist loosened but he didn’t let go completely. “The video of you dancing? You were so sure of yourself, so relaxed and didn’t worry about anything. You were so incredible attractive.” He finally leaned up to press their mouths together.

 _Fucking hell_.

Stiles let go of Theo’s hand to bury it in the shorts strands. To his surprise, Theo didn’t move it but instead kept kissing him in his distracting, mind melting and turning his insides into jelly kind of way. Not having given in for a little over a week seemed like a crazy feat to have accomplished. Theo managed to make Stiles want everything and more with a single kiss. But to be fair, it worked the other way around as well. Sometimes, all it needed was a single shared look.

“I hate you,” Stiles mumbled between kisses.

“You do you.” Theo chuckled. He moved his hand, but it was the wrong one.

Stiles bit Theo’s bottom lip before wrapping his fingers around his wrist again. His nails dug into the skin, a flicker of hesitation, then he pushed Theo’s hand where he wanted it. “You know how to talk yourself into someone’s pants.”

“Only yours.”  

Stiles laughed breathlessly.

 

“See ya tomorrow, sport!”

“Bye, Mitch!”

“Nice to meet you, dearie.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Mitch.” Stiles quickly waved goodbye to the chef de rang, a charming man in his mid-forties with his dark red hair up in a bun he would’ve cut of if he were his husband, then he slipped past Isaac, who held the door to the restaurant open. “Sport, eh?” He mocked after the door behind them had fallen shut.

They were walking down the pavement in the direction of the police department where Stiles had parked Theo’s car. It was some time after one a.m., which resulted in Beacon Hills being surprisingly empty. Stiles spotted one elderly couple walking down the footpath on the other side of the road talking excitedly about something. She giggled almost hysterically leaning onto her partner. In the distance, a single car slowly crept in their direction.

“He’s a great guy,” Isaac said loosening his tie, “but I reckon he wants to set me up with his daughter.”

“How come?”

Isaac pulled a face. “I think so, he’s talking about her a lot. It’s like he wants to make her more tempting. Also,” he paused as the man barked out a booming laugh, startling them both, “bloody hell.” Isaac shook his head. Stiles chuckled quietly. “As I was saying,” he continued then, “he also says _you should meet her_ twice per shift.”

“ _Oh_.” That wasn’t exactly subtle.

“Yeah. I tried to explain that I don’t, like, date a girl I’ve never met. Which made him think I’m gay.” Isaac rolled his eyes. “As I corrected him, he first thought I was aromantic, and I suppose he now thinks I’m bisexual.” He let out the sigh of a long-suffering person. Stiles squeezed his upper arm comfortingly. “I’ve told him multiple times that I don’t go on dates with people I don’t know. I don’t even want to have sex with someone I know but not really _know_ , you know?”

“I understand,” Stiles confirmed.

Isaac shook his head again, furrowing his brows. “I need to know the person before I can make the decision if I want to have a romantic relationship with them. If I agree on a date, it’s a given that Mitch’s daughter would expect a romance. It’s driving me insane. Mitch is a great guy, and I don’t want to insult him by declining a date with Mia, you know? But I don’t know how to make myself any clearer other than stapling a definition to his face.”

“I get you,” Stiles nodded, “and I’m really honoured that you offered to take my virginity.”

Isaac laughed wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close to his side. “And I appreciate how protective you are of me, but I do think walking me home is a little over the top.”

Stiles poked Isaac’s side. “So not happening, freezer boy.” He laughed as he was pushed away at the nickname. “It’s the only thing I can think about that protects you. I don’t wanna wake up by my father calling me to tell me they found your body.”

“I know, it’s- _ow_!” Isaac suddenly pressed a hand to the back of his neck.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think something stung me.”

“Stung you?” Stiles asked. As Isaac nodded checking his fingers for blood, he spotted something that looked like a blow dart. “Let me see. _Let me see_.” He rushed over to his beta and yanked the dart out of Isaac’s neck. But it seemed like he was already too late. “Nononono! Isaac?” Stiles fumbled for his phone in blind panic while also trying to keep the werewolf from falling face first onto the asphalt. “ _Fuck_.” He went to his knees helping Isaac lie down on his back. Small black lines creep down the side of his neck. That’s wolfsbane. He’s poisoned.

Stiles fumbled with his phone again, finger trembling so bad that he needed two attempts to unlock his display, but before he could call Theo, something hard connected with his head.


	5. Chapter 5

“You _will_ lift that spell.”

Stiles had lost count of how many times she had hit him. Luckily, she did not have supernatural powers, but even a girl as gaunt as her could cause serious damage over an extended period of time; and some time had passed even though Stiles was unable to tell how much. He only knew that she’d been in here for the third time since he had woken up.

“There is no spell!” Isaac yelled. He punched the wall of mountain ash for the umpteenth time. “How often do I have to tell you?!” He cradled his fist, then shook the pain away and continued to prowl at the outer corners of his cage like a lion searching for a way out, for a way to get to his prey. As soon as he was out, he would tear into her. That much was for sure.

Patricia glared at him before turning back to Stiles, her teeth bared like a feral animal. Although she still possessed the body of a pretty girl, her skin slowly lost its normal colour and her eyes started to look opaque. He wondered how long she would be able to keep this charade up until she had to let go – and he seriously didn’t want to know what she would be capable of when her costume was peeled away.

“Stiles, tell her,” Isaac ordered desperately.

But Stiles simply clenched his teeth and glared up at Patricia, who hissed in anger and slammed her fist down once more before getting to her feet. “I will make you budge.” The impact of her knuckles wasn’t the worst. But he collided with the floor as well. For a second, he was sure he had passed out.

“Fucking hell, just _do_ what you do!” Isaac’s voice came from somewhere far, far away. Fuzzy. Like he was talking through a radio with horrible connection.

A small groan slipped past his lips, and he rolled onto his side curling into a ball.

Patricia put her hands on her hips and shook her head, looking like an exasperated teacher. “I’m certainly not going through all this trouble to have you taste like rotten eggs.” Her lips curled into a soft smile. She almost looked human, and Stiles could see how easily one could fall for her charm. “If you don’t want to, I can’t savour you.” She sighed looking at Stiles again. “But for that I need her to lift the spell that protects you.”

“Are you dense or something?” Isaac asked irritated. “There’s no spell. I’m just not that into you.”

Patricia, baring her teeth again, rushed from the room slamming the door shut behind her. Stiles rolled his eyes. “This is not the time to quote movie titles.”

“Why don’t you say anything?”

“Because she’s not fucking listening to reason.” Stiles sat up, carefully feeling around the edges of his split bottom lip, which, additionally to his right cheek, radiated pain. It was manageable pain, however, and pain wouldn’t break him. The only thing that could possibly make him budge in their current situation was Isaac being hurt, but Patricia pointed out that wasn't an option. “At least, I think I know what she is.” Stiles sat up and leaned against the cold wall. The chain around his ankle scraped over the floor. He tugged at it for good measure before closing his eyes to ease the headache.

“Great,” Isaac said but his voice told different story. “How do we kill it?”

“By sacrificing a goat and hiring someone who exorcises evil East Asian spirits.”

Isaac stared at him. “Yeah, all right. Let me just hunt for a goat, you go google an exorcism ritual.” Baffled, he leaned back against the wall and slumped to the floor. “What the bloody hell is that chic?”

Stiles stared down at his cuffed ankle. Patricia had planned this for a while. With his luck, she had probably been waiting for any kind of hint which told her why Isaac didn’t fall for her. If she had been listening in, she might have made the wrong connection. Instead of considering Isaac’s sexuality as a possible factor, she took the following part of the conversation at face value. She believed Stiles was protecting Isaac and since she couldn’t see any other way, he guessed it was through magic.

“It’s called a Churel or Chuiael. Allegedly, it’s the quote-unquote ‘ghost of an unpurified mother’ who died during childbirth or pregnancy. The story originates in South-East Asia, I think,” Stiles explained feeling his bruised cheek. He hissed when his fingertips made contact with raw skin. “That’s why we couldn’t find anybody matching her picture. Churels can assume the shape of beautiful young women. The fact that she’s this picky and can control her hunger so well worries me. I think she’s existed for quite some time.”   

“Oh, that’s just marvellous.” Isaac propped his arms on his bend legs. As Stiles glanced at him, he was checking the room, probably for any means of escape. There wasn't one. He couldn’t tell exactly where they were held, but it had to be somewhere outside Beacon Hills. The cellar or bunker – or wherever this room was located – had no windows and a heavy metal door; which made Stiles believe that they were probably in an old unused bunker. But someone had to own it, since the electricity still worked. Their only source of light was a naked bulb hanging from the ceiling. Nothing else was in the room. There was no way out of this unless they went through that thing; and Isaac was still prisoned behind a wall of mountain ash Stiles couldn’t reach.

Isaac scowled, probably having come to the same conclusion. “How'd you make this sudden connection?” He asked after another second of silence.

Stiles curled and unfurled his fists. “Theo’s having nightmares about his sister almost killing me while I’m pregnant.”

Isaac's gaze bored into the side of his head. “ _You_ being pregnant?”

“Oh, come on,” Stiles said rolling his eyes heavenward, “do we have to go back to basic anatomy?” He only raised his brows at Isaac’s pout. “Seriously, unless I accidentally turn myself into a seahorse, there’s no way I’m getting pregnant as a guy... _and_ even then I’d need-“

“Spare me the exposition!” Isaac called raising both his hands in defence. “It was a stupid question, I got the hint.” A short laugh escaped his lips, then he rubbed the back of his head. “I’m so going to be godfather by the way.”

“What makes you my first choice for the godfather of my children?” Stiles asked with a raised brow.

Isaac looked almost offended. “ _Excuse me_?” He demanded indignantly. “I’m the perfect godfather. I’ve gotten rid of bodies for you, I’m mentally stable-“

“Mostly,” Stiles interrupted.

“-I can teach them how to wrap everyone around their little fingers,” Isaac continued without acknowledging the comment. “And, obviously, I’ll be the one to free their dad from the clutches of a potty old Chur...lia?”

Stiles shook his head. “Obviously.”

“So, what's the plan?”

“How do you kill what's already dead?”

Isaac squinted at him. However mentally stable he claimed he was, it said a lot that neither of them felt panicked or worried at the very least. They were mostly calm despite their situation and even managed to crack idiotic jokes; and as Isaac stretched out his legs, he looked more like he chilled at a campfire instead of a secure room underground. “Movies suggest separating the body from the head.”

“Yeah, how’s it going, Mr. Locked In?”

Isaac narrowed his eyes. “Do you have a better idea?”

“She's supernatural,” Stiles reminded him crossing his legs, “that means she has a spark and if she has a spark-“

“You can take it.”

“Exactly.”

A second later, Isaac seemed to have noticed the problem with the whole endeavour. “Wait,” he said furrowing his brows, “I thought your void is dormant?”

“I’m working on that.”

 

Stiles wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed. But he realised he had fallen into a restless slumber when he was suddenly yanked out of it. Isaac tossed profanities at Patricia Stiles hadn’t known before. She barely cared. Instead she slammed him back-first against the floor – Stiles’ head collided brutally with the stone; for a second, he was seeing stars for sure – and sat down on his legs, sharp fingernails digging into his shoulders.

“Still not budging?” She asked ever so softly. If this was a new attempt at persuading him, she would be tremendously disappointed about the outcome. That’s for sure.

Stiles, after blinking away the little explosions of light at the corners of his vision, glared at her. “Sweetheart,” he drawled, “you didn't even try.” It might not be his smartest move to bark provocations at the dead person who could kill him in an instant. But his mouth had never been his friend, and the fact that Isaac was safe as long as he was resisting her didn’t exactly help him be his charming and reasonable self. Basically, providing she still thought Stiles had a spell of protection on Isaac, neither of them was going to go west anytime soon.

“I was thinking.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Isaac groaned somewhere to his left. Truth be told, his coping mechanism made a lot of things worse for him. His mouthing off, however, helped him keep his shit together in situations like these. It prevented him from going into a panicked haze that stopped his brain from working – and when his brain stopped working, Stiles could shoot himself to spare her the trouble of doing him in.

Patricia smiled sharply at him; her soft curls framed her face. Such an innocent picture for an undead creature. “Is there a spell?” She asked her fingernail dragging along Stiles’ pulse point. “Because if there isn’t, I suppose, it’s easier to drain you of your blood, store it for bad times and move on.”

“Yeah, you really don’t want to drink my blood.” He needed to get more time. He needed to fucking stall. As soon as she decided he was useless, Stiles was done for. “It’s bad.” There had to be away for someone to find them. He needed to give a hint, make a trail. Anything.

Her smile broadened and without another word, she dug her very non-human nail into his arm. Luckily, she seemed to be acquainted enough with anatomy to avoid damaging anything vital. But that didn’t mean the damage wasn’t bad. He curled his hands into tight fists and gritted his teeth. The low rumble, which turned out to be Isaac’s warning growl, made Patricia only chuckle. Provoking, she lifted her bloody finger to her lips. The snarl grew louder as she licked the liquid of her skin. Isaac was seconds away from attacking her. Maybe it’s an instinct to protect his alpha or maybe it’s just his wish to defend a friend. It was hard to tell how much of the normal rules applied to them. But when Isaac lost his composure, he would most likely hurt himself more than do anything good.

Patricia curled her lips in mild disgust.

Stiles grinned. “Told you.”

“Dear.” She wiped the blood off her finger. “What the hell are you?”

“Past my expiration date, obviously.”

Patricia rolled her eyes. “Then I’ll just kill you.”

“Touch him and it’ll be the last thing you do,” Isaac warned.

“Him?” Patricia asked curiously. Her eyes dragged over Stiles' features to his chest. To everyone with eyes, he was an obvious woman. But Isaac didn’t think about that. He was way too aggravated to worry about pronouns right now; and as he realised his mistake, it was already to late.

“There’s a spell,” Stiles chimed in grasping at straws. He had to wing it. He had to distract her, make her leave- anything until he could figure out a way to active his... _hold on_. “There’s is a spell,” he repeated less urgent now, and Patricia looked away from Isaac. “But I cannot lift it.”

“What kind of spell?”

“One to protect anybody from falling for your charm.”

She sent another sharp smile in his direction. “And why can't you lift it?”

 _Please work, please work, please work._ “My alpha won’t allow it.” Almost as if to check for confirmation, Patricia glanced at Isaac again, who had his features under absolute control. “He doesn’t know about it. I mean-“ Stiles chuckled, catching her attention again- “What guy could resist a pretty face and the promise of fun, am I right?” It seemed like Patricia had, even after death, enough of an ego to fall for the simple tricks. She relaxed visibly. “To prevent that, my alpha made me protect the males in our pack, and as long as she doesn’t give me the okay, I can’t do anything.”

Patricia pursed her lips in contemplation. “You’re not a werewolf.”

“I’m an emissary,” he explained, his mind reeling – how could he make Satomi understand what he needed without Patricia getting wind of it? If this plan went south, he would be dead the second she noticed. “I obey the same rules.” And even if she didn’t know, they might be able to follow her trail. Satomi was smart. She would figure something out.

“So, if I kill your alpha-“ She contemplated.

Stiles interrupted her, his heart beating faster. “No. If you kill her, the next in line will be alpha. You’d have to murder the whole pack and even then, it’s not guaranteed.” Stiles searched for any clue he could give Satomi, for anything. “She has to- she has to wake my magic.”

“Wake your magic?”

“Yes,” Stiles nodded grasping at literally anything that came to his mind to spin a believable lie that would save their asses. “I cannot use my magic without my alphas permission. Go find her, tell her my magic needs to wake up, so I can fix this problem.”

For a moment, Patricia did not seem convinced – until she looked at Isaac again. Just like her ego, her hunger seemed to get the better of her. “Where do I find her?”

Stiles let out a breath.

 

“What if Satomi killed her?” Isaac asked hours after Patricia had left to gather the needed instructions. “What if- what if Satomi doesn’t know how to wake your void?”

“Optimism, Lahey,” Stiles snapped. They were walking in circles. It wasn’t the first time Isaac mentioned something that could go wrong. “I doubt Satomi has a goat and an exorcist she could pull out of her pocket whenever she needs them.” He watched the werewolf nudge the line of mountain ash with his foot, then he looked down at his left arm. He had bandaged it as best as he could with a part of his top. But there was a small pool of blood right underneath his hand. The white had turned red an hour ago. He probably needed stitches or, at least, a new bandage for a start. “I’ll get us out of here, okay?” Stiles closed his eyes, ignoring how tired he was, ignoring how desperately his body needed food and water – or how much blood he would be losing if he didn’t get the proper treatment.

Stiles drew his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Propping his chin on his knees, he watched the shackle around his ankle. As the nogitsune possessed him, it had been able to break something like that with ease. Stiles could do that, too, if his void were active.

“Do you think you’re immune to electricity because of your link to Kira?”

“What?” Stiles looked up, confused. He couldn’t quite catch the leap in topic.

Isaac shrugged. “Just came to mind,” he said after another short silence. “You woke up the first time when you saved Derek from drowning, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Erica told me you couldn’t touch her charged up restrains when Gerard had kidnapped them, so, it’s not the void that made you immune to electricity,” Isaac continued; almost like he talked while he was still mulling over the thoughts in his head and just said out loud what came to mind. Truth be told, Stiles didn’t act any different when it came down to his powers. His void was guesswork at best. “But as Kira electrified the water to send Tara back to her prison, you weren’t affected at all.”

“Okay?” Isaac had a point, that was for sure – and Stiles was interested where it would be going. Maybe Isaac wasn’t a genius like Lydia, but he was a survivalist, pure and simple. He had been strong enough to resist a Darach. He was strong enough to resist a Churel. Stiles would be stupid to shrug off his words.

“Also, although you could use the water and electricity to heal yourself from the kanima venom, the water would’ve killed you,” Isaac continued after another pause. He drew his eyebrows in, concentrating like he worried his thoughts would slip away if he let himself get distracted. “So, I reckon, you’re not immune to all elements, correct?” He looked up now, waiting for anything from Stiles.

“I can get behind what you’re saying,” he answered, “but I’m not quite sure what your point is.”

Isaac shuffled around a little, until he was sitting more comfortably. “I was thinking, like, what if everyone you’re connected with gives you some kind of advantage _even_ when your void’s dormant?” He finally looked up at Stiles. “When fighting my brother, you moved pretty fast – with his gun and all. You had the magazine out before Jordan had the chance to properly aim it; and he’s pretty damn quick with his gun.” He tapped his finger against his leg.

“So, what you’re saying is,” Stiles began slowly, “that you and the others give me some slimmed down version of- of, I don’t know, your biggest strength?”

Isaac shrugged again, unconvinced by his own words. “Maybe?”

“Okay, so- let’s play this out,” Stiles said smiling slightly as Isaac’s whole face lit up. It sounded reasonable enough for Stiles to give it a closer look. When it came down to his void, he was honestly ready to believe anything. Also, it’s not like they had anything better to do anyway. “Kira gives me immunity to electricity. You’re pretty fast, so, I might have gotten speed from you.” But Isaac was also tremendously stubborn when it came down to his own survival. Then again, Stiles was too – and could you even pass something like that on? “Liam’s stronger than the average werewolf. Perhaps, I’m stronger than before and just haven’t noticed it yet. Theo- Theo-“ Theo _what_? He was neither incredibly strong, nor fast. He was an amazing fighter, though. Maybe that’s why Stiles was such a quick learner. Still, if he looked at it rationally, Theo wasn’t _really_ supernatural, was he? And Mason, as a human, probably didn’t give him any special power either.

The way Isaac squirmed a little while thinking about what power Theo might have given Stiles made it obvious that he had no clue either. “I wanted to bring your attention to Lydia, anyway. If this is actually true, I reckon she’d given you banshee powers, right?”

Stiles was glad Isaac did not push the topic. “Most likely.” But a banshee’s power was vast. “I felt Theo’s spark die and I had this weird dream.”

“Yeah, but Liam wouldn’t have died because of the onis.” Isaac shook his head determinedly. “I think that’s just unique to your void – and either way, you’re closer to Lydia than to any of us. You’re each other’s emotional tethers. I think your powers are a lot more linked to her than to any of us.”  

“I have no idea what- what you’re hinting at, I mean- I can’t use my scream as a weapon, I don’t have voices-“ Stiles stopped talking only a second later. _Voices_. Banshees hear the whispers of other banshees. “You think I can talk to her.” The excitement about this possible ability – like, seriously, how cool would that be?! – turned sour really quick. “Even if that worked, what would I tell her? I don’t know where we are.”

Isaac didn’t look any less deflated at that. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, “I guess I hoped you’d come up with something.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, you’re trying your best, mate.”

They were silent again. Stiles grit his teeth at a wave of anger washed over him. Unable to stop himself, he slammed his fists against the stone floor. Again and again and again. Blood was rushing in his ears. Anger curled in his gut like a snake ready to lash out. For a second, he hated Isaac for giving him hope just to take it away only moments later. Ignorant anger. Irresponsible hatred. Both turned against himself quickly as he remembered again what kind of pathetic alpha he was, weak, unable to protect his pack or himself – unable to control his powers.

“Stiles, stop! Stop, please-“ Isaac’s voice rang loud in his ears, and suddenly, his movements halted. “What are you- what are you _doing_?”

The skin over his knuckles was split open. He was bleeding, and the wound on his forearm throbbed worse. How much blood had he lost already? “I’m sorry,” Stiles whispered in a small voice, “I’m so sorry.”

“Please, don't lose it.” Isaac’s voice shivered in a way Stiles hadn’t heard it before. As he looked up, tears seemed to shimmer in his eyes. But as he blinked, Stiles wasn’t quite sure if that hadn’t been his imagination. “I need you. I can’t- I can’t do this alone.”

Isaac had been locked in a freezer in a cellar. How could he forget? How _ignorant_ had he’d been that he didn’t made the connection in the first place? Not _once_ Stiles had the decency to ask how Isaac was feeling. “I’m here. I’m sorry.” He couldn’t keep the tremor out of his own voice. “It won’t happen again.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Stiles replied sharply. “It’s not _okay_. I should be able to protect you. That’s my fucking job. But I can’t. I’m sorry I let you down.”

Isaac stared at him, and ever so slowly, his expression morphed into fury. “That’s what you’re thinking?” He asked in a voice that trembled for a different reason than despair. “I can’t believe, after all you’ve _done_ , after everything you’ve gone through- you’re one of the strongest people I know, Stiles, and I’m not talking about your void. I’m talking about the nogitsune, about Allison, about- fuck, man. The things you survived without superpowers? That’s insane. You smacked a bloody alpha werewolf over the head with a goddamn baseball bat.” He shook his head at a memory Stiles barely remembered after everything else that had happened. “You gave your life away from Beacon Hills up for us. Without you, do you think this pack could even exist?” He didn’t stop talking to give Stiles the chance for an answer. “No. Because Kira wouldn’t be here. Because Lydia wouldn’t be here. Do you really think I would’ve given Liam and Mason a second glance? Do you really think _anybody_ would’ve given Theo the chance for redemption? If Liam had his way, he would have sent him straight back to hell – but he freed him, didn’t he? Because he _trusted_ your instinct even before you were back here in Beacon Hills. All of us trust you with our lives, you know? You might think you’re alpha until someone better comes along, but have you ever heard one of us asking if you were even looking? Did you ever _ask_ if we even want you to look for someone else? There’s a fully functional pack, a quote-unquote _real alpha_ , right here with us in Beacon Hills and none of us ever considered going to her just because things are a little rough sometimes. Because we trust you, Stiles, because we want you to be our alpha.” Isaac locked eyes with him. “So, how about you stop selling yourself short and start to remember what you’ve achieved before you got any superpowers?!” Stiles startled a little as he saw yellow bled into his irises. “Because that’s the alpha I chose to follow.” Isaac huffed out a breath and crossed his arms.

Stiles blinked. “What?” He couldn’t quite grasp what Isaac had told him.

“Oh, bloody hell. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Stiles looked down at his hands again. _The alpha I chose to follow_. Isaac had always been a werewolf who had made his own decision. He had followed Derek until he had pushed him away to keep him safe. He had given Derek shit before that. He had turned to Scott until he had turned away from everyone and left Beacon Hills. Isaac had always been a person to Stiles who didn’t need anybody to survive. This was Isaac unfiltered. He had survived too much to put up with anybody’s shit. “Okay,” Stiles said nodding, “you’re right.”

“Good, then own your void and stop letting your void own you,” Isaac told him, his eyes still a blazing yellow and suddenly, he blinked. “Your knuckles.”

Stiles glanced down at his hands again. They had healed. The only evidence about the damage was the blood sticking to his skin. But there was still blood trickling down his arm. His forearm wasn’t healed yet.

Isaac smirked. “Get us out of here.”

Stiles nodded, then pulled at the shackle. The first time, his attempt failed. But his knuckles had healed, so his void was waking up. He repeated the motion. The metal cracked audibly in the silence. Instead of celebrating – he totally was celebrating internally – Stiles forced his fingers further underneath the shackle and yanked at it. The metal snapped only a second later. Well, fuck him. All he needed was a little encouragement and things started working out the way he wanted to. Never would he have thought his insecurities made his void harder to control.

As he pushed himself to his feet, he stumbled. His body didn’t seem to be quite as on board with the whole moving thing as Stiles was. That’s not quite what he had hoped to accomplish. Breathing in deep, he propped himself against a wall. Okay. His vision was slightly blurry. He was dizzy. But he was _fine_. Peachy. Everything was perfect.

“Stiles?!”

“I’m fine.” He raised a hand. Fine was a definitive overstatement. Okay made more sense. Okay _ish._   “Just a little dizzy,” Stiles added. Let’s be real here, he was alive at best. His vision flickered ominously. He felt like he was two seconds from passing out. This had so not been the plan.

“She’s back.”

 _Fuck_.

“Stiles, get me out.”

Right. Away from the wall. He just needed to reach the line of mountain ash.

“Stiles, _come on_.”

He pushed himself off the wall, swayed on his feet. When he reached Isaac, he needed a bit from his spark. Just enough to help his void heal. Just enough-

The door flew open. At first, Patricia was smug. Stiles assumed she had gotten the answer she needed to finally have her desired meal. But then she took in the scene right in front of her, and her whole demeanour changed. Before Stiles could move, she leapt at him. The two collided and landed on the floor in a heap of limbs. Stiles brought his fist up. But Patricia headbutted him. Light exploded behind his eyes. He wouldn’t win this fight.

“Stiles!”

Stiles pushed back however, and he slammed his elbow into her face. The fight was messy. They grappled on the floor, delivering punches and kicks. His whole body ached. Every time he thought he had the upper hand, Patricia managed to somehow come back; and eventually, she managed to slam Stiles’ head into the wall again. He could feel the skin at and around his eyebrow split open. Blood dripped into his eye, something he really didn’t thought would happen – it felt horrible, FYI. But Stiles grit his teeth and, instead of wiping the blood away, he used his elbow for the attack. It connected with Patricia. Using the few seconds this hit gave him, Stiles scrambled over the floor and broke the line.

Isaac roared so loud, Stiles felt like his head was exploding. Without as much as another thought, the werewolf moved. Her scream went through marrow and bone. Stiles covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. He forced himself to breath in and out. Slowly. In. Out. In. Out. _Okay._ Stiles scrambled to his knees, heart racing in chest.

Isaac slammed the unmoving body of Patricia to the ground beside him. He had done enough damage to kill, tore of more skin than he had left untouched. There was coagulated blood at his claws and her clothes. She had been dead long before they had met for the first time.

Stiles wrapped his fingers around her pale throat.

His void drew on the spark the second their skin made contact – and it felt _different_. Stiles couldn’t properly describe it. He was used to werewolves and chimeras, to banshee screams and thunderstorms. This was- this felt like death. Cold and wrong. Her skin turned white, then pale, then dead. Her teeth rotted. Her hair fell out – slowly but surely, the pretty girl peeled away to show the real her.

He pulled his hand away, when there was nothing left to take.

Isaac watched him closely. “Are you okay?”

“I’m tired,” Stiles answered, his fingers trembling. He had trouble seeing anything. His vision started to blur. _Okay_. _Breathe_. _This is going to be better any second._ But it wasn’t. In fact, it got worse. He barely made it out of the room by himself. Isaac dragged him up the stairs and out of the cellar. His vision got worse with every step. The pain didn’t subside. Something was wrong. Something was so fucking wrong.

“Isaac-“ His grasp on reality slipped before he could finish the sentence.

“I got you.”

“Stiles?”

Sunlight.

“Stiles, don’t give up on me now.”

“Brett, we're here! We're- oh thank _god_.”

Someone, somewhere in the distance, screamed.

“- get it out.”

“Stiles? Hey, don't die on me- _Stiles?!_ ”

Lydia screamed.

He breathed in. He breathed out.

Lydia.

He breathed in. Out.

The scream faded into silence.

He didn’t breath in again.

 

“He’s _back_.”

“Hey!”

“He’s _alive_!”

 

As Stiles took his first conscious breath, he didn’t expect it to hurt like hell. But it did. Oh _god_ , did it hurt. Holy _fuck_. This was pain of a new dimension.

“You almost killed him!” Theo snapped.

Stiles very carefully opened his eyes, expecting bright light directly over his head. But there was nothing. He lay somewhere in half darkness. To his right, however, was a dimmed light on the wall. A hospital room. How had he gotten into a hospital? The last thing he more or less remembered was taking Patricia's spark. He turned his head very slowly to check who Theo was talking to.

His pack was sitting on the floor, chairs and the empty bed at his right. They literally sat on top of each other so everyone had at least a little room to sit. Lydia and his father both sat on on chairs next to Stiles’ bed, but neither seemed to have realised that he had woken up; most likely because they faced the growing trouble.

“I tried to save his life, okay?” Brett gestured, shortly, then balled his hand into a fist. “No, I _did_ save his life. He would’ve died if I hadn't done anything.”

Stiles frowned, trying to remember everything that had happened.

“You-” Theo hissed, but Lori, whom Stiles hadn’t even seen before, interrupted him. “How about you go fuck yourself?!” She spat raising to her feet.

Brett pointed at the floor. “Stay out of this.”

For all their anger, they all kept their voices down. Most likely because they were very aware, that Melissa would all kick them out of the hospital if they made any sort of ruckus and disturbed Stiles’ rest. It was half a miracle she even allowed all of them in here.

Isaac looked up from his fingers, nails digging into the back of his hands. There was still blood on his skin. From the attack to now, there couldn’t have passed a lot of time. “He’s alive,” he whispered sounding too tired to be irritated. “That’s what counts.”

“What even happened?” Mason asked. He, Corey and Liam sat at the wall somewhere at the foot of Stiles' bed. They had either come last or lost the competition for the better places.

Stiles tried to keep his breathing level. But the pain in his chest wasn't the only thing bothering him. His left arm throbbed, let alone the right side of his head. Also, there was a horrible stinging somewhere just above his lower back. Fucking hell. What had happened to him?

Brett glanced at Mason out of the corner of his eye, then back to the window. Stiles lay very still. “He was poisoned,” he answered, and Theo stalked over to Kira who put a hand on his shoulder. He shoved it off. “Or rather, his spark was.”

“Taking the spark of something dead,” Lori added crossing her legs, “it’s like being shot up with wolfsbane.”

“When Lori and I found Stiles, his body was already shutting down.” Brett curled and uncurled his fingers. His eyes were somewhere far away. “He was dying. I thought when I get the poison out, the void could heal him. But he lost too much blood. He didn't recover, and he wouldn’t take my spark either.”

“Maybe you should’ve tried that _before_ you-,” Theo chimed in turning around to face Brett again, who clenched teeth.

“He didn’t take mine. Or did you forget the part where I told you I carried him?” Isaac snapped, suddenly furious. “Stiles was- He would’ve-“ He broke off again, crossing his arms tightly in front of his chest. The energy left his body, and he slumped to the ground shuddering at whatever he remembered. Jordan wrapped an arm around his shoulders, but Isaac barely registered the gesture. “You weren't there,” he whispered instead. It wasn’t an accusation but a fact. He could’ve told them that the sun was shining. “He lost his pack saving Stiles' life. Maybe you should’ve thank him instead of marking your territory.”

There was an uneasy shuffle in the room. Everyone looked everywhere but at Brett. “Satomi will take me back in.” He cracked his knuckles absentmindedly.

Stiles clenched his teeth. The pain grew worse, but he wanted to know as much as possible before everyone would drill him with questions.

“Well, what if she doesn't?”

“She does, Isaac,” Brett insisted. “I already submitted to her again. It’s fine.”

“Could somebody, please, explain to me why that happened?“ Danny’s voice piped up suddenly. _Everyone_ was here. Jesus.

“To get the poison out of him, I had to force his spark to connect with mine,” Brett explained running a hand through his hair. “He's an alpha. Naturally, connecting to his spark means becoming part of your pack.”

“It was a stupid idea,” Lori announced. “Seriously, I don’t want to be in a pack with that idiot.” She nodded in a certain direction.

“Hey,” Liam complained quietly.

“Lori-“

“You’re my brother, Brett. Do you really think I wouldn’t have followed you?”

Theo let out a breath. “Might I remind everyone, that he almost killed Stiles with that?”

“Let it rest, son.” John sounded more than just a little tired.

“If he’d done nothing,” Jackson remarked from somewhere at Lydia’s feet, “the poison would’ve offed him.”

“He didn’t have a lot of options,” Lydia added.

“This is fucking-“

Stiles clenched his teeth, but he couldn’t stop the cough from escaping him. It hurt more than the breathing did. Lydia whipped her head around. “Stiles!” She jumped off her chair. “Wait- Jackson, help him sit up.”

Muttering under his breath, he got to his feet and wrapped an arm around Stiles’ shoulders. Surprisingly gently, he helped him move- but while that made it easier to cough, the pain in his back grew tremendously worse. “No.” He barely managed to get the word out, and instead dug his fingernails into Jackson’s forearm.

“That’s enough, Lydia.”

“Okay.”

Jackson slowly lowered him down again, until he leaned against the slightly raised mattress. The breathing hurt as much as before, but at least the pain in his lower back subsided enough that it was bearable again.

“You all look like shit,” Stiles greeted them breathlessly.

“You’re one to talk,” Isaac shot back, voice void of humour.

“I’m hospitalised,” Stiles moped. “That’s just plain rude.” His voice was completely shot. He sounded like he had attended a rock concert and screamed his lungs out for hours on end.

Theo had slipped past the IV which was currently working against Stiles’ lack of Vitamin Everything, probably, to intertwine their fingers. In fact, everyone in the room somehow managed to move so they could properly see him. Stiles felt a little like he was witnessing his own wake – and that’s nothing particularly fancy to think about. He squirmed a little, then decided against it as another wave of pain shot through his lower back.

“How are you feeling?” Kira asked softly. She had squeezed between Jackson and Danny, who had put his hands on John’s shoulders in an almost calming manner. It begged the question how much time had his father spent with his pack over the last few, what, hours? Day? Days. Probably. Yeah. Days. Or day. At least one.

“Tired,” Stiles replied, “and my back hurts.”

“Yeah, that was me connecting with your spark,” Brett announced with a small smile, one that didn’t really reach his eyes.

Stiles chuckled, the groaned in pain. “Also, my chest feels nasty.”

“That was me as well,” Brett muttered twisting slightly in his stance. “Sorry about that.”

Theo glared at him. Stiles squeezed his hand in warning, nails digging into soft skin. At first, the chimera refused to budge, but after a few seconds his resolve weakened, and he leaned down to press his lips against his forehead. The gesture, additionally to the eerie silence in the room despite so many people – especially since his pack was known for notoriously bickering about fucking _everything_ – made him feel uneasy. He squeezed Theo’s hand again as his eyes happened to fall onto Lori, who looked up at her brother, who, in turn, resolutely stared anywhere else but his sister. 

“Can we, like, not act like you’re standing at my deathbed?” Stiles asked opting for annoyance, but his voice worked against him.

Mason pressed his lips into a thin line and turned to Corey, who pulled him flat against his side. Liam stared at the nametag at the foot of Stiles’ bed. Isaac turned away completely taking a deep breath while Lydia covered her face with her hands. Jackson leaned down to kiss her cheek before wrapping his arms around her shoulders comfortingly. Kira looked down at her fingers. 

“What?” His tone turned out sharper than he had intended for it to be.

Theo cleared his throat, but he didn’t get a word out. Instead he clenched his teeth and looked away. Parrish, who stood beside him, patted his back. Stiles squeezed his fingers, however, he didn’t get a reaction.

“We thought-“ John said eventually, voice thick with the attempt to keep his composure in check. Danny pressed his fingers into his shoulders for the smallest comfort he could possibly offer him.

“You were kinda dead,” Lori answered eventually. Her voice was so soft, Stiles barely heard her. She pressed her hands together, then wrapped her fingers around Brett’s wrist. “For 23 minutes.” Her eyes locked onto her hands, and she wasn’t the only one. Nobody looked at Stiles as she spoke, and nobody did so even after a few seconds of silence lingered between them.

23 minutes. He was dead. He had died. He had been dead. Past tense. Now he’s alive again. Present tense. _Huh_. Stiles understood what was said, but the information didn’t sink it.

“The paramedic stopped the reanimation after ten minutes,” Kira added in a low voice while she was squeezing her hands so tightly together her knuckles turned white. “Brett refused to let you go.” She blinked a couple of times before screwing her eyes shut.

“I guess, that’s when I cracked a rip or two,” Brett joked half-heartedly.

“Oh.” Stiles felt like they talked about something they had read somewhere. An article maybe. About how long after cardiac arrest paramedics would try to reanimate. It felt like he was just one of these stories. A stranger in his own life.

“ _Oh_?” Theo repeated with a broken whisper. “Really? _Oh_? That’s all you have to say?”

“Theo, stop it,” Liam muttered glaring at the chimera.

“No, seriously – what is that?” Jackson asked. “’I’ve been dead for 23 minutes’ deserves another reaction as ‘Whoopsie, I dropped an egg or two’.”

“How about you leave him alone.”

“Fuck off, Talbot.”

“You should show a little more gratitude to-“

“Shut up!” Jordan suddenly bellowed. “All of you.” The pack fell into another uneasy silence. “The last three days took a toll on all of us. I get that. But Stiles is alive, how about you focus on that instead of constantly butting heads?” Everyone looked somewhere that wasn’t each other or Stiles – or rather, everyone but his dad.

John shook his head. “I have no idea how you do it, kiddo.”

“I usually just yell at them,” he replied shrugging, a movement he regretted instantly. “Alternatively, I just lock the squabblers into a room and wait who comes out alive.” Nobody seemed to find that comment even remotely funny. “Okay,” he muttered, “sensitive topic. Gotcha.”

Lydia softly punched his upper arm.

“That’s why every alpha should have a second in command,” Brett explained crossing his arms, brows raised.

Stiles scrunched up his nose. “He happened to have been kidnapped, too.” Isaac whipped his head around. Like a fish on land, he opened and closed his mouth then repeated the motion until he, eventually, pointed wordlessly at himself. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. You don’t really think Theo would let anybody talk to him the way you do, if they weren’t above him in the pecking order, do you?”

“And here I thought he has a problem with authority,” Jackson deadpanned.

A quiet ripple of laughter echoed through the room.

“Despite what all of you may think, I pick my battles very carefully,” Theo said indignantly.

“Says the guy who backstabs the three original nogitsunes.” Lydia shook her head, a small smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.

“Or lies to Stiles’ dad,” Kira added with a quiet chuckle.

Jordan raised his brows. “Or impales a hellhound.” Someone obviously still held a grudge. Not that Stiles could really blame him.

“And then continues to follow Stiles around to search for a banshee on the verge of her death,” Liam continued the list gleefully.

Corey smiled as Mason shook his head as well. “Or tried to steal the beast’s power without the talons.”

Theo raised both hands in defeat, at least until Stiles boxed his leg and demanded his hand back. “I meant _within_ the pack,” he remarked raising his voice ever so slightly while he was intertwining their fingers again. “But thanks for the recap, guys, it’s appreciated.”

This time, the laughter sounded a lot more genuine – and lasted longer. The horrible atmosphere started to lift. _Finally_. Even his father leaned back chuckling quietly. Lydia wiped a few tear streaks from her face but carried their marks with pride. Stiles grinned up at Theo, who rolled his eyes. “That’s yo-“ The chimera leaned down quickly and pressed their mouths together. It was as innocent as it could be and lasted barely longer than a few seconds, but he felt strangely satisfied anyway. His eyes fluttered shut against better judgement, and the stupidest smile slipped onto his lips.

“I need to remember that trick,” Brett announced ignoring the low growl completely. He uncrossed his arms to shove his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants looking somewhat gloomily for the quip he had made. “But I’d rather get back on topic: what the hell was that chick anyway? Satomi just ordered us to spread out without actually telling us _what_ we were hunting.”

Stiles raised his brows. “Yes, Isaac. What were we hunting?”

“Don’t _ask_ me that. The only thing I remember is dead and male seahorses.”

Danny drew his eyebrows in. “Male seahorses?”

“You were kidnapped and spouted nonsense about male seahorses?” John asked raising his brows. “Sometimes I’m concerned about who I raised.”

“When is he not spouting nonsense?” Theo remarked, catching Stiles’ hand before he could manage to box him again.

“It was churel,” he answered then.

“Eww,” Lori scrunched up her face in disgust. “And you took her spark? That’s disgusting.” She probably hinted at what Patricia usually fed on, and now that he thought about it as well, Stiles couldn’t really unthink it. He shuddered feeling sickened by the simple notion of it. Seriously.

Stiles pressed his free hand to his face. “Thanks for the nightmares.”

“No problem.”

Theo scoffed. “You deserve it.”

“I was dead for 23 minutes,” Stiles complained pulling at Theo's hand until he awkwardly ducked underneath the IV line to sit down on the bed. “Be a little nicer to me.” Theo flicked his forehead with a rather annoyed expression. Lydia punched his upper arm again, a little firmer this time. “Too soon?” He asked biting his bottom lip.

“ _Yes_ ,” Brett answered meeting Stiles' eyes over Theo’s head. “Not even six hours is way too soon.”

“Sorry.”

“And thus we conclude the day a werewolf almost died from a panic induced heart attack,” Isaac noted just barely evading both Jordan and Brett's hands, who aimed for the back of his head.

“I need to sleep for a week,” Lydia announced running her fingers through unkempt hair.

Mason pressed the balls of his hands to his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“You owe me at least an expensive bouquet of flowers, Stilinski,” Brett remarked inching to the door. “Or a dinner for two.”

Theo rolled his eyes but decided against saying anything. He might not choose his battles wisely, however, he seemed to accept when it was better to give up instead of talking himself blue in the face.

“We'll find something,” Stiles agreed smiling at Brett who nodded before slipping out of the door. Lori followed him, glancing over her shoulder with an odd expression.

Stiles ran a hand through Theo’s hair. “Are you going to stay?” He asked quietly. “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

Theo pressed another kiss to his forehead. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Female Stiles:  
> https://i.pinimg.com/564x/75/e7/d9/75e7d98c61e6314069d30f48e8cac6e7.jpg


End file.
